#but on the other hand...it IS more freedom
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I know this has been discussed a lot already, but I still cannot believe how easy it was in the end to establish so much character development in just a handful of scenes that the show actively had to go out of its way to avoid for years when it was on Fox.
And I canât stop thinking about this moment:
This feels like such a pivotal realisation in Eddieâs mind, where he not only stops denying himself things he wants in the moment but heâs now open to the possibility of more in the future, even if it might not yet have fully clicked what that means for the relationship between him and Buck.
So many unspoken options are suddenly on the menu that simply werenât available before and that door he thought was sealed? Buck makes the first move by ringing the bell, but Eddie is the one who lets him in with the full knowledge itâs Buck specifically heâs opening the door to and in the vulnerable state of being half-dressed. Then, of course, he accepts Buckâs beer after starting the day denying himself juice.
They may not be ready to talk/confess anything to each other, but to set up so much possibility and hope in a wordless facial expression after all this time is insane and I take my hat off to Ryan and the writers/director for conveying so much in just a couple of seconds now that theyâve finally been allowed the creative freedom to tell this story.
#911#911 abc#911 spoilers#9-1-1#9-1-1 spoilers#9-1-1 ramblings#Eddie Diaz#Evan Buckley#Buddie#Donât mind meâŠI just havenât been able to think about anything else since Thursday night lol
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Breakaway | hockey!Azriel Ă reader
Summary: You're not a fan of a kiss cam. And neither is your boyfriend.
Word count: 1,8k
Warnings: swearing, miserable knowledge of hockey (sorry yall), Rhys being a protective asshole over his sister
A/n: Anyone a hockey fan? No, just me? Okay. Another thing is, that I described university as I know it in my country haha. I hope no one will be confused
Also yes, I did take inspiration from tiktok. I just loved that scene <3
Leaves started to fall which meant your favorite season was starting. You loved anything and everything that came with autumn. The pumpkin spice, moody weather, sweaters, and books. With autumn knocking on your door, the new semester has begun. You didn't mind studying, you actually enjoyed it to a certain degree, but the stress is what always got to you during exams. You were just starting your second year of university, so you knew what to expect. To many that was all. Just endless studying and partying to get their minds off things. You? Not really. Ever since you could remember, fall meant the hockey season started. Were you a hockey player? No, not at all. Ice skating was your passion, just not hockey. That didn't matter, because your brother was the golden child. Rhysand played because your father used to. You would never say it out loud, mainly because it would inflate his ego even more, but Rhysand was a star player. He was so much better than your father and you knew that if he wanted to, he would make it far.Â
 Rhys never acted towards you with any malice other than just a bit of sibling rivalry. He was actually quite protective of you, given the fact you were his little sister. But whatever you did was never good enough for your father. You might study medicine, but Rhys was finishing law. You might figure skate but you were no hockey player. And most of all, you were a woman. And your father despised you for it. You were expected to make it to every game, but no one ever wanted to attend your competitions. You enjoyed watching the games, especially when Rhys met his best friends and teammates at university. The games became so much more interesting when Azriel entered the ice. Rhys might be the captain and the center, but Azriel was a force to be reckoned with, the fastest player in the rink. You became friends with both Cassian and Azriel quickly since you often visited their house to get away from your parents. Rhysand of course was glad but you knew you were off-limits to his friends. Not only was it obvious in how he glared at both of them whenever they made a comment he didnât appreciate. But the first time you met, Cass basically undressed you with his eyes. From what you heard he reminded them often to not mess with his sister.
It did not stop you from developing feelings for him the moment you laid eyes on him. For a while, it did seem he viewed you only as his best friend's little sister. Which you had a hard time accepting. Your relationship changed when you sneaked into a party they had thrown in celebration of a victory last year. You were a first-year, and your first semester at university had been hectic, but living close to your brother and away from your parents was a long-awaited blessing. Having a taste of freedom made you bold. Azriel couldn't take his eyes off of you, you had been like a magnet. He hadn't been the only one as you attracted the attention of another freshman. Azriel might not have acted on his attraction towards you before but seeing you with another man changed that. One thing led to another and you were sneaking out together whenever you found time.
It had been a year and your brother still had no clue. And you intended to keep it that way. You loved your boyfriend, you didn't want to worry about his teeth off the ice as well. Cassian on the other hand suspected, thankfully as you introduced him to your friend, Nesta, he became preoccupied and dropped the matter.Â
''So who do you think will win? And be honest, they're not here, you can't hurt their fragile egos.'' Nesta disturbed your train of thought. You laughed shaking your head. You loved hanging out with her because of how direct she was, always saying exactly what was on her mind. You met Nesta when your university did a charity ballet on the ice of Nutcracker. You got the role of Clara and she was your ballet counterpart. You did not expect to establish a friendship with her, but she was exactly who you needed in your life. You knew she would call you out on your bullshit anytime and you liked her for it. She also happened to be the first person you told about Azriel. She was not surprised, saying that you weren't being as secretive as you thought you had been.
''You know I am still biased since I really want our team to win. The Cavaliers are good and they play dirty. But Cass will probably try to kill Eris on the ice. Given the history and all.'' You gave her a pointed look. Shifting your gaze to the rink, you tried to find number 38.
''Theyâve got no chance against VU.'' Said a guy next to you. You hated when someone butted their way into a conversation. But given the fact, that you would be spending about two hours in close proximity, you had decided for a polite smile. ''I guess so.''
''So how come you've got such good seats? Know someone on the team?'' He chimed in again.
''You could say that. My brother is the captain.'' You answered keeping your eyes on Azriel as he warmed up.
''Rhysand is your brother?''
''Unfortunately.'' You nodded, and his eyes grew in size. ''That's so lucky! I wish I was a hockey player or just knew them. You see, I got these seats because I'll be writing an article about the game.'' You smiled politely again shifting your gaze to the rink when the puck was just about to hit the ice.
As the game progressed, the crowd became electric. All the fans were shouting and your ears began ringing. Velaris Bats were in the lead, but only by one goal and everyone was nervous. To make the game even more enjoyable, there were games for the fans as well. Students competed against one another to win points for their university and win the competition of the tribunes.
The competitions were fun and good entertainment during breaks. But while the game continued the camera was turned on. You laughed at a random do a meme moment, but quickly turned your head back to the ice. You didn't want to miss a second of Azriel's game. Fully focused, you didn't realize that the camera switched to a kiss cam. A guy sitting next to you turned his head to face you and pointed to the TV earning your attention. ''I mean when in Rome, right?'' He laughed as he tried to close the distance. ''Yeah, no, thank you.'' You laughed nervously shifting in your seat.
''Oh come on, it's just a kiss.'' He pressured, and you gave a panicked look towards the ice. You heard Nesta taking a sharp inhale to give the guy a piece of her mind. You were interrupted by shouts of the fans and loud banging on the glass.Â
''Back the fuck off.'' You couldn't hear Az properly, but the message was quite clear, making the guy shift his gaze between the two of you uncomfortably. Az got two minutes for stalling the game which made the crowd boo and your brother yell obscenities as he often did when one of his teammates was sent to a bench. Thankfully during the power play the Cavaliers didn't get a goal in, but it was close. It only enraged Rhysand more which was abundantly clear when he almost broke his stick as the second period came to an end.
Azriel was sending daggers to the guy sitting next to you who looked like he wanted nothing more than to leave. He relaxed when the players left for their locker rooms. You just hoped Rhys didn't look much into Azriel's possessive behavior.
''What the fuck was that?'' Roared Rhys as he entered the locker room.
''I don't know what you're talking about.'' Azriel continued to take off his gear.
''Do not play with me! You could have cost us the game.''
''I was thinking I did you a favor. He had no right to touch her like that.'' He finally faced Rhysand.
''It was a fucking kiss cam.''
''She didn't want to be kissed. And he didn't back off.''
''So what? You made it your mission to help her while you were supposed to pay attention to the puck?'' Spit Rhys. Everyone in the locker room was silent watching the two stubborn players go head to head.
''Yes! And I would do it again.'' Azriel retorted.
''I could have you off the team for this.'' He hissed.
''Rhys-.'' Cassian signed. ''Be my guest.'' Azriel interrupted starring Rhysand down. He wouldn't back down. He couldn't. He knew you could have handled yourself back there. Hell, Nesta was there, too and she wouldn't let some guy do anything disrespectful. He just acted on an impulse. When he looked up and saw your panicked gaze, something shifted inside him. Rhys kept watching Azriel, staring right into his soul when suddenly his eyes grew larger as if recognizing what he should have seen from the very beginning.
''You've got to be kidding me.'' When Azriel didn't answer, Rhys continued, ''Tell me you donât have a thing for my little sister.ââ
''Azriel, I swear to everything that is holly, I will fucking punch you if you don't give me an answer.''
''We are together. Have been for almost a year.'' Azriel never saw anyone have an aneurysm. But if he could guess, Rhysand was a textbook example of how it looked like.
''I take it back, I will punch you anyway.'' And he might have if Cassian wasn't there to catch Rhys. ''Easy there killer. The game is still on. And you might not like it but Az is an asset.''
''I don't want to see you anywhere near her, understand? I know how you are with girls!'' Rhysand snarled.
''You know I can't do that.''
''Then you're off the team.''
''Fine.''
As they returned to the ice, the tension between Velaris Bats was palpable. Cassian was looking between his teammates probably trying to find a quick solution to the problem at hand. Azriel wasn't paying you any attention keeping his gaze on the ice only. You frowned slightly. When you looked at Rhys you found him staring back at you anger oozing out of his every move.Â
He knew.
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indebted
dark!joel x f!reader. one shot.
summary: you're having a bad day. one you think is getting better once a rough around the edges man comes to your rescue. you didn't expect it would takes such a sharp turn for the worse. first person pov reader. 9.2k words.
warnings: 18+ MDNI! DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT! NON CONSENUAL SEXUAL ACTS, READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION, pervy, sleazy, and foul mouthed joel. degradation, sexual favors, forced oral and piv, virgin reader, corruption, innocence, and daddy kinks featured. biiig ol' age gap (reader's age not mentioned other than "young" but i imagine her as 18-20 as she has a relatively immature attitude, imagining joel 50-55), this is not for everyone and that's okay. i'm not responsible for the content you consume.
a/n: i had some hormonal induced insanity and came up with this. i had a great time trying out a new pov for writing fic! enjoy him as much as i did, friends đ€ and thanks @joelstummy for the amazing freaky beta work!
Iâll be the first person to admit now that what Iâve been doing is stupid. Dangerous. Idiotic. The list goes on. I can hear my fatherâs stern, militant voice in the back of my head, telling me as much. Except now he likely wonât get the chance to relish in it because Iâm going to die here. Way out here where nobody will find my body, and Iâll be just another person that went missing in the QZ, never to be seen again. But this time, itâs not some sleazy FEDRA scheme and coverup or a smuggling deal gone wrong.
Itâs utterly and completely my fault.
Sneaking out wasnât meant to become a habit, but after the first few times, I lost the fear and adrenaline that had burned hot through my veins at those first steps of freedom. I craved it again, so I kept going further. And further. Away from civilization as I knew it, until the cluster of buildings known as the Quarantine Zone became a tiny speck in the distance. Out here was desolation, nothingness, only abandoned buildings to explore. The infected were another story, but I started to learn routes that helped me avoid encounters with them.
It helped clear my mind after a while, this newly found sense of adventure. All Iâd ever known was a cage, a walled city that had become so mundane I felt my insides starting to rot from the listlessness of it all. My father was important - top in the rankings - I knew that, and it was all the more reason to keep me safely locked away while the city stirred with chatter of an uprising against FEDRA.Â
He never bothered to check on me much, anyways, making my little forays quite easy. Once Iâd persuaded enough people with ration cards, theyâd shown me the tunnel leading to freedom. Well, that tunnel, then another, a ladder to climb back up to the surface, and only then could I go through a precarious hole in a chain link fence. That was the smugglerâs route, they said, an easy ticket to getting in and out without being noticed.Â
Iâd been abusing it, staying out for days at a time, never able to drink in enough of this quiet solitude that was of my own choosing, not my fatherâs. I couldnât quite figure out what hole inside of me I was trying to fill, but Iâd be damned if I stopped trying.
However, today seemed to be my last chance to try at all. His footsteps had been quiet - so quiet - approaching behind me. An old store, full of half decayed plushies, molded candies, and other adorable things from lives long put in the past, had called to me, distracted me. The arm around my throat, constricting, the other coming up to put a hand over my mouth. A dirty, putrid smell encompassing everything as I sputtered against him. This is it, Iâd thought. What a waste.
I scream and fight against the strong hold he has on me, a nasty sneer right against my skin. âWhatâs some fresh meat like you doing waaaay out here, huh?â a dark voice rattles into my ear.
I scream behind his dirty palm in response, kicking my legs back at him. I should have learned more self defense, but who needs it when youâve spent most of your life safely tucked away with your family name as your biggest protector?
âYou smell good⊠real goodâŠâ The creepâs voice buzzes by me as he takes a deep breath in, making me shudder. One swift kick and Iâm sure this is it, the one to knock him senseless and let me escape. Heâs smart for how distracted he seems to be by my scent, and heâs one step ahead of me. My legs are kicked out from underneath me as I rear one back, and I fall to the ground, the man coming down with me to sit on my back, straddling my body in a fluid motion. He grips my hands behind my back, leaving me helpless in my fight, kicking and screaming. Iâm ice and heat all at once, my body burning in a frozen blaze, my fight or flight quickly turning to fawn as his weight presses down on me.
âYou can have anything in my backpack, anything! Please, let me go! I - I donât want any trouble,â I choke out pathetically, hating how my voice comes out in shaky waves. This isnât how to appeal to people like this, people who have lost their sense of humanity, evident by the way heâs now grinding himself down onto my jean clad asscheeks.Â
A laugh comes out of him that would haunt me as evil incarnate for the rest of my days if I wasnât so sure that I was going to die at the hands of this man after he was done with me. âWe both know I donât give a fuck about any damn backpack of yours. I donât want any trouble either, sweet cheeks, I just think youâd have a lot of fun with me and my friends. But mostly me,â he replies with the hint of a wink in his voice.Â
My stomach clenches, sickness rolling in that is only furthered as the man leans down, cloaking me with his large form. I canât turn enough to see him, to even know what this violation of a man looks like, but his energy is beyond hideous as I catch a glimpse of his yellowing teeth in a grin before he pushes my head down to the cracked linoleum tiles. My hair tangled in his fingers, he holds me down hard, and I struggle to breathe as he crushes me beneath him.
âNow, are you gonna come easily, or do I need to do things the hard way? Either way is fine with me, for a fine piece of ass like this. In fact, I might prefer it the hard way, but weâd hate to ruin this pretty skin of yours, wouldnât we?â He says slowly, pressing the cold blade of a knife to my throat.
âO-okay, okay,â I acquiesce, stopping my squirming, just needing a bit of room to breathe, my lungs heavy inside my chest. My panic only makes my chest tighter, even when the man leans back the tiniest bit. I had hoped that my sudden compliance would get that knife off my throat, but it hasnât. âJust donât hurt me⊠pleaseâŠâ I whimper.
He lets out a long, ragged sigh. âAfraid I canât promise that.âÂ
Iâve never felt fear like this, such certainty that I was about to be ruined, my life as I know it changing without a chance to even look back. I squeeze my eyes shut and brace for it, for anything heâs about to do next, finally accepting that there isnât any appealing to scummy men in a scummy world. But nothing comes except for a muffled crack ringing through the air, and then a thud as the entire weight of my adversary falls on top of me, crushing. Something warm has splattered on my skin, my face, then starts to coat my jacket, seeping through. I shake violently, begging my body to catch a full breath under the weight of him.Â
Then as suddenly as it happened, it stops, the body yanked off of me and tossed to the side with ease. The deafening thud of his entire weight onto the ground is stark. I flip over and scramble backwards, grabbing the knife that had fallen from the manâs hand in his swift, final moment. Holding up a shaky hand, I grip the knife tightly, looking up to face a brutish, tall man with overgrown hair of chestnut and gray. A trim beard with the same coloring wraps around his tightly set jaw. Heâs all wide shoulders, thick arms, broad chest, and my senses go on high alert again. His gun is practically still smoking as it hangs at his side, an active threat.
âYâalright?â he drawls, thick and deep, echoing through the abandoned shop. One step closer to me has the knife practically flailing as I struggle to calm my hands, a strained hum alongside my shaky breathing the only sound I seem capable of making.
âPut that thing down,â he says calmly, almost exasperated. His stance slackens, one knee pushed out as he sizes me up. Iâm likely the most miserable looking thing heâs seen in a while, Iâm sure. âYouâre harmless.â
âH-how do I know youâre not with him?â I blurt out.
My gruff savior lifts his brows incredulously. âThat guy?â he asks, motioning impatiently to the dead body only a foot away. âThink Iâd be puttinâ a bullet right in his skull if he was my best buddy?â
My eyes dance over him as I think. He has a point, and he did just save me from whatever debauched things that strangerâs mind had been conjuring up.
âY-yeah, you have a point,â I finally say. He steps closer, and this time, I let him, putting the knife down. He motions with an authoritarian air for me to push it away, and I obey immediately, flinging it across the room.Â
âPoor fucker died with a hard on, didnât he?â The man muses as his boots thud on the way over to the body, kicking it slightly as if to check, letting it roll back before turning his attention on me. âNow, are you usually this stupid, cominâ into hunter territory, or what?â he asks, reaching a hand down to me, presumably to help me up.
âI didnât knowâŠâ I mumble, letting his hand hang there. He doesnât snatch it back right away, although I can tell he wants to, that heâs already beyond exasperated by his day and the last thing heâd wanted was a damsel in distress like me. I hate that heâs proving all the things Iâd been trying to disprove about myself by coming out on these solo trips into the great, big outside. Iâm weak. Dependent. Needy. It makes my skin crawl with self loathing and frustration.
âDidnât know, huh? So just clueless, then?â the man spits out, staring down at me with darkened eyes that make me turn my head away in shame. At my sullen silence, he seems to soften a little. âIâm Joel,â he says, an offering to go along with his outstretched hand.
I sigh, taking it and telling him my own name. Iâm up on my feet, dusting myself off and looking at him shyly now. I donât know what people are supposed to say when someone saves their life, so I just mumble, âThank you.â
Joel snorts, nodding in acknowledgment as he crouches to pat down the body, seeming to come up short of anything interesting. âDonât thank me yet,â he says, standing back to his full, towering height, glancing around with sharp eyes. âWe should move.â
I might be as stupid as he says, because I wordlessly start to follow him towards the door. His hand stretches out behind him, open and inviting me in as he checks outside the door with a careful peek, his gun held tightly in the other. I stare down at it in disbelief. âCâmon, I donât bite,â he sighs, that perpetual vexation in his tone again as he twitches his brows at me. âNeed you close by. Anâ it seems you have a tendency to go where you shouldnât.â
My cheeks grow hot at the harsh truth of it, and I grasp his hand without any further objections, marveling for a moment at the way it envelops mine. All calloused and hard, mine soft and unused for labor of any kind.Â
âIâve got a safehouse not too far from here.â
âA safehouse?â
âItâs already gettinâ dark. There ainât no way weâre making it back to the QZ today, princess,â he retorts quickly, the pet name mocking on his tongue.
âHowâd you know?â I ask softly, disappointment pressing in on my shoulders.
He chuckles out more of a snort, pulling me around a bend, slowly leaving behind the dangerous territory that Iâd unknowingly encroached on. âYouâre a FEDRA princess if Iâve ever seen one,â he tells me, and my heart sinks that I was so easy to read. Iâd seen how capable this man Joel was, but damn was he was astute, more than Iâd given him credit for.Â
I chew at my lip. âFair enough,â I mumble under my breath, letting him take his well earned win. The longer I hang onto Joelâs hand, letting him expertly weave me through the barren streets, the safer I start to feel. He knows where heâs going, a practiced route heâs taken countless times, and it hits me then that this man is a smuggler. He has to be.
âAre you a smuggler?â I ask pointedly. âIâve heard that people like that come in and out of the QZ.â
Joel falters for just a brief second, giving me a wily grin. âLook whoâs readinâ who now,â he says with a dry chuckle. âAinât gonna run and tell your daddy, are you?â
I shake my head, pressing my lips together in a smile. âI can keep a secret.â In fact, I like keeping secrets from my father, hence the sneaking out, so Joel can count on me to never rat him out.
His amused grin in response lights a little flame akin to friendship inside of me. This grumpy old bastard could smile after all. âJust through here,â he says, letting the smile drop, taking a sharp left down a street just as a sprinkle of rain starts to fall on us. Itâs a less urban area - more like a neighborhood - sprouted with apartment buildings and abandoned, vine covered cars. Itâs my favorite thing about all the exploration Iâve been doing, seeing the way nature can reclaim anything and make it her own.Â
The cracked street below us makes me tread carefully, lagging behind as Joelâs hand tugs me along urgently. We turn down an alley, Joel whipping his head left to right before dragging me behind him, finally dropping my hand to open a door that leads right into a tiny lobby and a stairwell. He runs a hand through his damp hair, slicking it back some - a rather handsome look for him, now that Iâm thinking about it. I try to ignore that thought as his voice booms through the empty room.
âUp,â he commands, gripping my hand again and leading us up the stairs.Â
My stomach sinks a little when he takes out a key, unlocking a padlock on one of the apartments numbered 405 and pushing the old, chipped door inwards. I have no reason not to trust Joel, he saved my life afterall, but I canât shake the nerves I feel from being in an unfamiliar place with an unfamiliar man. Itâs quiet here, likely nobody in the vicinity but the two of us.
âHome sweet home,â he grunts out, dropping his backpack and gun holster near the door and shrugging off his damp jacket, leaving him in a plain tee shirt that hugs his muscular frame. Itâs a small, cramped apartment with a living room and kitchen directly next to it, a little window cut into the wall, peering in on the living room from above the stove. It looks as if itâs left exactly as it was years ago, full of furniture and clutter, only a vessel for Joel to use without making it his own at all. I peer past to see a small hallway I can only assume leads to a bedroom and bathroom.
âKnow it ainât the palace youâre probably used to, but weâll be safe anâ dry here,â he say, and I roll my eyes behind his back. If Joel thinks that I live in a palace, heâs clearly misunderstood the state that the QZ is in. My fatherâs house is spacious, sure, but itâs just as dilapidated as the rest of the city. The only difference is the level of protection afforded to our homes.
He ambles into the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets with a clatter, then comes back moments later with an open can of beans and two forks. Iâm still standing in the entryway, unsure of what to do with myself.
âHungry?â he asks gruffly, and I shake my head, wide eyed. Iâd lost my appetite the minute that man had grabbed me earlier, and I couldnât seem to get it back. Joel shrugs, digging in with a messy forkful of from the can. âYour funeral,â he says, chewing.
Joel sinks down onto the couch with a tiny groan, setting down the can on the side table next to his armrest, giving the other cushion an expectant look. âWell, you gonna sit your ass on down anâ tell me why the hell I had to save it today, or what? Why the hell youâre wanderinâ around like itâs a free for all out there?â
I flinch slightly at his harsh tone, but gingerly step my way into the room, unzipping my jacket and shedding it. For the chill outside, the temperature inside the apartment is more comfortable than Iâd expect, my skin welcoming the change. Joel eyes my thin tee shirt, and I feel a flash of heat sweep my skin before I feel the prickle of goosebumps, knowing my nipples are poking through the fabric. His eyes catch there before he promptly averts them.
I sit precariously next to Joel on the loveseat, pressed as far away as I can from him, not wanting to cramp his personal space. But he seems to have no problem with that anyways, his legs spread wide open in a comfortable stance, leaned back against the cushions. He pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes shut for a moment as he awaits my answer.Â
âI was⊠exploring,â I say simply, cringing at how ridiculous it sounds coming out of my mouth. Who leaves perfect safety to wander around in a dangerous world on purpose? For no other reason than curiosity and a sudden, rebellious sense of defiance?
His eyes snap open, head pulling up from the couch, turning my way. âExplorinââŠâ He mulls on the word, slowly licking his lips before pursing them. âYouâre tellinâ me I had to save a FEDRA brat today âcause she was explorinâ? You really are stupid. âCourse you are, look how young yâare. Look how fuckinâ... sheltered.â Joel throws his hands up, landing them on his thighs with a soft thud, sighing. âCanât even blame ya.â
I pluck up every bit of courage I have, glaring at him with narrowed eyes. âLook, it was really nice of you to save me and everything, and I do thank you for it. Iâm sorry if I messed up whatever⊠smuggling stuff you had going on today, but Iâd appreciate it if you didnât call me⊠stupid.â The last word is quiet, mousy, and I turn my head down, eyes shining with unshed tears that I silently curse myself for. My fatherâs voice rings through my head - you stupid girl! - making me shudder.
Joel sucks at his teeth. âHit a nerve, I see,â he says passively. âAlright, Iâm sorry kiddo. I just mean, youâre puttinâ yourself at risk doinâ what youâre doinâ, and it ainât a smart idea. Yeah?â
âYeah,â I sigh out, relaxing a little. âI just needed to get away.â
âFrom your dear old daddy?â he teases, picking up the can, shoveling several more bites into his mouth. I go silent, picking at a thread on the couch rather than answer him. âAh, another nerve, I see. Daddy issues. Couldâve guessed that one.â
âI donât have -â
âSweetheartâŠâ Joel interrupts, looking at me from under his brows, pulling his lip between his teeth, seeming to look at me in a fresh light. It sends my skin tingling, the way he eyes me, a glint in his stare. It seems to prove his point, the way a pet name from a middle aged man seems to immobilize me against my will. I want to slap the smug look off his face, but I have no grounds to do so, only grumbling quietly with my cheeks blazing in embarrassment. A prickle of something else works its way deep into my belly, something warm at how his scrutinizing eyes flick over my body, the lines in his face set, showing his age, his experience.Â
âTake a piece of advice from a man probably as old as your daddy, then. Trust me when I say that outside those walls ainât the place to find what youâre lookinâ for. The sooner you let go of that notion, the better off youâll be.âÂ
Frustration blooms hot in my chest, overpowering whatever the hell that sudden, unwanted feeling was. Iâm tired of people dictating what I can and canât do, what Iâm capable of. âPeople do it all the time - smugglers - you would know,â I retort. âIâve been doing it for months. Never had a problem until today. It was just some bad luck.â
âBad luck? Really? Youâd be that manâs newest little cock sleeve if it werenât for me savinâ your ass,â Joel growls, standing up off the couch. I wince at his vulgar language, the picture it paints in my mind of what life might have been like if Joel hadnât happened to be in the right place at the right time.
âI - I know - Iâm sorry,â I blurt out, feeling my hands start to go shaky. âThank you, Joel, I really - I really do owe you. Everything.â
âLike I said, donât thank me yet.â He steps over so that heâs in front of me, using his boot to part my legs, scooting them apart and standing between them. âThink I did all this out of the kindness of my heart, did you? Didnât think that maybe I was after the same damn thing as buddy boy earlier?â
Iâm like a fish out of water, the way my lips move with no sound coming out. âJoelâŠâ I breathe out in warning, in questioning. I see his arms strain in his t-shirt, hands flexing open and closed.
âI canât say the thought ainât crossinâ my mind now. You are mighty pretty. And you do owe me a favor. One big olâ gigantic favor, for savinâ your backside.â He brushes his fingers along his jeans, palming his crotch for a brief second before leaning forward, caging me in on the couch with hands on either side of me, pressing into the cushions. My heart hammers in my chest so loud I expect Joel can hear it, can feel the fear taking hold of me. He bares his teeth above me like a wild animal, and now Iâm certain he can smell my fear too, that he thrives on it.Â
âYou know what? Maybe you were bound to find what you were lookinâ for outside those walls. Maybe thatâs what you needed, is it? Couldnât find any love from daddy back home, so you wanted to find someone to turn you into their own personal little play thing. Poor baby just needed some attention, did she? Sad, really.â
My hands tremble, my words lost as I can only breathe in shaky little breaths, shaking my head violently. How can this god forsaken day keep getting worse?Â
âPlease -â I mumble out, bringing a jittery hand up to my mouth. Joel slaps it away, gripping my chin harshly at first, inspecting me before his thumb brushes over my bottom lip. Iâd think it was gentle, caring, even, if not for the nasty look spreading across his face, the grin that darkens it along with his eyes.
âTime to put this pretty thing to better use and show how grateful you are to olâ daddy Joel,â he says, using his free hand to deftly unbuckle his belt, the jangling sound like a death knell, making my throat go dry. âPromise Iâll be much better than he wouldâve been earlier. People say Iâm⊠a generous lover.â His drawl is slow and calculated, voice deep with lust, the sly smirk turning to a triumphant grin as he chuckles, amusing himself.
He grips the top of my head, pushing me to slide down the couch cushions into a slump as I struggle, powerless against a man of his strength. He positions himself higher up to bring the giant denim bulge right in my view. I wince, trying to turn my head away as his zipper comes undone, his hand grasping deep into the fly of his jeans, yanking his cock out. When it springs free, I gasp as he lets it slap me in the face. Hot, throbbing, and massive, leaking a shiny bead of precum that had ended up somewhere on my cheek. I sit stunned and held in place by his rough hand.Â
The cold hard fact hits me that this is the first time Iâm ever going to experience intimacy of any kind. Hell, Iâve only had one kiss before, and it was when I was ten years old, with a boy belonging to one of my fatherâs friends, a name I canât even remember now. The first penis Iâm ever seeing is right here, right now, in a context I have had zero control over. Itâs thicker than Iâd imagined one could be, softer too as I look at the skin of it. Veins run along the sides and bottom, all leading up to an imposing, angry pink head at the tip, practically bursting as it awaits me. Itâs magnificent and terrifying at the same time, nothing like what Iâd expected based on the half-assed health classes provided by schooling in the QZ. Sex has always had a shroud of mystery for me, and I never imagined that all those secrets, long awaited, would be uncovered like this. A dingy bedroom, a man likely almost three times my age, and me as an unwilling participant. Desperation swiftly grips my chest as I realize I actually have no clue what goes on behind closed doors between two people, and I have a feeling Iâm about to find out in the crudest of ways.
The fearful innocence I know is about to be stolen from me causes tears to sting at my eyes, fat little droplets that instantly start to roll down my cheeks, leaking onto Joelâs large fingers still gripped around my chin. I start to struggle, my body seeming to catch up with my mind, loud warning sirens of DANGER! DANGER! finally blaring out in a panic. When I squirm, Joel plants one of his knees into my body, keeping himself balanced while still being able to hold me down.Â
âDonât cry now, honey, itâll only make him harder.â He sneers as he strokes his cock, slapping the head against my closed lips a few times. He wrenches my jaw down, forcing it open. âNice ân wide for this big boy, there we go,â he says, not waiting a moment longer to barge his cock past the opening while he has it.Â
He groans loudly as he shoves several inches in right from the get go, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head. The hand that had been holding my jaw presses in on my shoulder, holding me in place. Iâd have nowhere to go, anyways, with his knee on my thighs, his entire body caging me in, the cushions giving me no leeway to the way his cock is forcefully intruding, inch by inch down my throat. The taste is all consuming - a little salty, a little ripe, tasting like days of Joelâs old sweat, but itâs not completely bad, not what Iâd have expected. Itâs heady in a strange way, clouding my mind as I try to cope with the fullness in my mouth.Â
The next moment I sputter, my eyes popping open wide, flooded with tears as he hits the back of my throat. I try to gasp for air and I find that I canât. This is torture of some form, it must be. Full panic follows, where I try to move, but every avenue is pinned down in some way by Joelâs massive body. I weakly flap at him with my hands but it barely even deters him from rocking his hips in and out, choking me again on the thrust inwards as the back of my throat tightens, gagging around his thick girth.Â
âOpen up, relax your goddamn throat,â Joel hisses at me, keeping his cock pressed fully to the back of my throat, constricting any airflow I was hoping to have. I finally breathe shakily out of my nose when he pulls back just enough, only to slide it in slowly, his eyes carefully watching me. I glance up for the first time at him from below, hoping to find any shred of humanity he might have for me, but Iâm met with an icy, dark gaze clouded with lust, power.Â
âGonna fuck your face now, like the dumb little slut you are. This is what stupid girls get for wanderinâ around by themselves. This is what they ask for.â He punctuates the last words with a sharp thrust inwards, my entire body convulsing with the gag I sputter out around him, drool pooling around my stretched lips. I would whimper if I could, if I even had the air to do so.Â
Joel is relentless for the next few moments, rapid thrusts in and out of my mouth, my head held conveniently in place against the couch cushions for him. He groans deeply, his pleasure evident while Iâm just trying to get my next breath in. I time them expertly, learning as I go, letting him continue to take from me to gain his own pleasure.Â
âThatâs it, thatâs right, youâre turninâ into quite the good girl,â Joel mutters above me, rolling his hips with vigor and making me gag again. I can feel drool dribbling down my chin, my neck, landing on my chest, and it makes me feel ashamed, embarrassed, and a twinge of something else. I canât tell as Joel grunts, pumping himself in and out of my gruesomely contorted jaw, if the fact that itâs something even remotely sexual has me feeling things I shouldnât. My cheeks burn hot as my eyes continue to water - how much of it is crying and how much of it is just my bodyâs response to him hitting the back of my throat, I donât know.
Then he surprises me by slowing down, languid strokes of his cock in and out with sloppy sounds, a soft hand landing on my head, stroking before bundling my hair in his fist tightly. âKnew youâd have such a filthy little mouth for daddy,â he coos, rolling his hips forward a little further, touching the back of my throat with his cock.Â
My body spasms a little when he keeps pushing, grumbling quiet groans of approval. My eyes squeeze shut, leaking out an onslaught of tears. I donât want to see the aftermath if it ends up that itâs one gag too many and the inevitable happens. But to my surprise, he keeps slipping down, intruding on my throat. I try to keep my trembling body still, wanting to keep my throat relaxed, terrified of what might happen if I fight this. Can a person die this way? Could I really choke to death on this manâs dick?Â
âJesus fuck. Lord have fuckinâ mercyâŠâ Joel breathes out as he pushes even further. âSwallowinâ him down, arenât ya? Feel me right in here, I bet.â I flinch when he touches his hand to the column of my throat, wrapping his fingers softly around the flesh. When he starts to retreat, the choking is back in a second, but Joel holds me by the throat, keeping my neck craned back, returning to the brutal way heâd been abusing my mouth. I groan and sputter and try to cough through all of it, my mouth stuffed full over and over again before I can get a breath in.Â
Heâs relentless, and then it stops all at once, his cock popping out from between my lips with a wet, lewd sound. A stream of drool follows, a gush that dribbles down onto my already soaked shirt, and I cough violently, my hands flailing to clutch at my chest.Â
As soon as the pressure of Joelâs body lifts off of me, Iâm scrambling to somewhere, anywhere else, my limbs stiff and achy, my jaw panging with a soreness Iâve never felt before. He stands in front of me, one hand shooting out to grab the collar of my shirt before I can even get fully off the couch, pulling me close.
âDoes it look like youâre done showinâ your gratitude yet?â he growls out, gripping the back of my head and forcing me to look down at his cock, still standing at full attention, shiny and dripping with saliva. I swallow hard, the lump painful on the way down. Joel shakes my head for me, the burn at my scalp making me wince. He presses his hips flush with mine, forcing his erection against my thigh before slipping it between them. He leans in close, hot breath ghosting over my face before his lips brush mine.
âYou do make a pretty cocksleeve, yâknow. Suckinâ cock like a cheap whore, wonder if you take it the same way in your cunt.â
I whimper, shaking my head, the tears non-stop as they roll down my cheeks. âPlease⊠donât. You donât have to do thisâŠâ
Joel scoffs. âIf I put my hand down your pants to that pretty little snatch, tell me I wouldnât find you wet right now.â He punctuates the words with a sharp pull on my scalp. I cry out, lip quivering, trying to shake my head. âDonât lie tâme after Iâve been so, so generous tâyou today.â
Iâm spinning around, a dizzying sensation, Joelâs strong bicep brought across my chest as his other hand delves below my waistline, plunging deep, right to my cotton panties, bypassing the waistband of those, too. Without care, without any sense of boundaries, his fingers explore, slipping through my sensitive slit with ease. I yelp, squirming at the intrusion, and Joelâs deep chuckle behind me confirms what I already knew, what I was beyond confused by.
âThought so,â he says gruffly, then he cups my entire mound, giving an almost comforting sensation, holding his hand tightly pressed to it. âNothinâ to be upset about, weâre just havinâ a little fun, payinâ off your debt to dear olâ Joel, okay?â
I shake my head. âI - I shouldn't be here⊠it shouldnât be like this,â I whisper in a cracking voice, hanging my head low as the tears just keep coming, damn them.Â
Joelâs fingers start to move slowly, just starting with one, stroking gently up my lips, spreading my slickness around. Iâm surprised that it feels good, a pleasant little tingle zipping right to my core that I quickly lament, hating myself for it. âWhat shouldnât be like this, hm? That you shouldnât like my cock down your throat? Itâs perfectly natural, doll,â he says, somehow soft and condescending in the same breath.
âA-all of this,â I whimper, âPlease, j-just let me go. I w-wonât say anything, I wonât do anything. I justâŠâ
Joel quietly shushes me, letting his finger do the talking for a moment. It drags up to my clit, rubbing tiny, enticing little circles. I bite my lip hard, enough to taste copper, trying to suppress the moan climbing its way up from my chest.Â
âItâs okay, itâs okay that it feels good. Itâs âsposed to. Good little sluts like you donât know any better, donât care what it is thatâs gettinâ their panties wet. Desperate,â he growls, fingers sliding through the slick mess thatâs now drooling onto the cotton. âJust relax, let it happenâŠâ I feel his breath, hot on my ear, before he nibbles, biting down hard on the earlobe, tugging it with his teeth. It bursts out, the whimpering moan Iâd been holding back, just as he pinches my clit at the same time as the bite.
He laughs. He has the nerve to laugh and it sends a shiver down my spine, my brain muddled and confused and turned on by the eroticism at play here. He soothes me by nuzzling my neck, taking a long, deep breath in. I squirm as Joelâs hand retreats, and I wonder for just a moment, a brief, all consuming moment, if maybe heâs seen reason. When his fingers find the buttons of my jeans, my heart plummets to depths previously unknown as he unbuttons them, pulling the zipper down slowly, the only sound in the room his harsh breathing right on my neck.
âPlease, I gave you what you want already,â I beg once more, feeling it fall on deaf ears as Joel tugs my jeans down, revealing my pink cotton panties. Theyâre my favorite pair - were my favorite pair - a rare find in a world like this. Pretty pale pink with a nice lacy trim and a little bow at the front. Only now, theyâd belong to Joel.
Joel clicks his tongue in approval of the sight, pulling his head back to peer at my underwear from the back before his hand grips my ass, jiggling it roughly. âOh, youâre jusânot getting it, are you? You feel this?â he asks angrily, letting me feel the hard length of his cock pressed to my ass cheeks, threatening to slip between my thighs. âThis means you didnât give me nearly half of what I want yet. Heâs still achinâ for ya, princess.âÂ
I grit my teeth, hating the pet name, the way heâs using who I am to mock me. Itâs a low blow. I hated everything to do with being associated with my father - I knew he wasnât a good man - and I hated most that it was so obvious to a stranger which echelon of society I belonged to. If I was so important, where were they now, huh? I want to scream those words at him, but instead I just feel my legs tremble underneath me, my knees feeling like jelly as they almost give out on me.
âPlease!â I struggle against his hold, but it only makes him grip my ass tighter, hard enough to bruise. âI-Iâm a virgin,â I suddenly squeak out, unsure of why I say it other than some last ditch effort to deter him. My heart pounds as he stills, dead silent with his hand grasping my ass like itâs his next meal, like he owns it.Â
âWell ainât it my lucky day. Shit, thatâs why you were sputterinâ all over my damn cock, ainât it?â he says as the epiphany dawns on him, laughing. My cheeks blaze hotter and hotter, hating that Iâm even embarrassed at my lack of experience and skills, like I have some sick need to impress him. He notices my tension, my head hanging low as I cry new tears, and says, âHey, hey, nothinâ to be ashamed for. In factâŠâ His hand fists in my underwear, tight and unrelenting. I feel his cock press against my ass again, harder than ever before it slips between my thighs. âMakes me awful excited,â he purrs, bringing his mouth to my ear again.
I only give him a timid whimper in reply, squeezing my eyes shut as I realize there is nothing I can do to stop this man. He thinks Iâm a cheap whore, and he loves it. Iâm a pure virgin, and he loves it even more.
He squeezes me tighter to his chest, my back starting to sweat through my thin tee shirt. âThe hell were you savinâ yourself for anyways? Marriage? A sweet pussy like this?â At my silence, he cups my pussy hard, letting the dampness of my underwear soak into his palm. âAnswer me!â he barks out.
âI - I wasnât! I donât know!â I cry out, trembling.
âWell,â he says, fisting my panties again, starting to pull them down. âMâhonored youâd let me be your first, sweetheart,â he drawls, and I nearly scream at the insinuation. Iâm not letting him do anything.Â
I start to put up more of a fight, useless against his thick arms holding me so tightly. Cool air touches my ass and the space between my thighs as he manages to shimmy my panties further down even in my struggle. I clamp my legs shut in defiance, roaring out a strained grunt as I keep trying to squirm out of his grasp. He huffs in anger, trying to subdue my writhing body before he pushes it towards the couch. I land hard, banging my knee on the hard edge that supports the cushion, wincing and trying to catch my breath. Iâm practically in position for him already, ass pressed out towards him, on my hands and knees.
âGonna make me do things the hard way, are you?â He scowls, his free hand fisting in my hair again, pulling me close. His breath is hot over my shoulder, the sensation vile against the skin of my cheek, stained with tears. âBeen too long since I found a pretty virgin like you. Anâ ruininâ this perfect, pure little cunt is jusâ the cherry on top of a perfect day fâme.âÂ
I feel his hard cock twitch against me, a reminder of whatâs to come. The movements are quick for how bulky Joelâs body is, let alone his age, as he exchanges the hold across my chest for my wrists, bundling them behind my back. I cry out at the strain, the awkward angle heâd twisted them to, fighting him again until a hard smack lands on my ass. I scream through gritted teeth, not giving up the fight, but another thwap! rings out through the apartment, making me falter. My tender flesh screams at me in agony when he lands another spank, even harder this time, then another, until Iâm crying unrelenting, fat tears.
With me rendered motionless, Joel presses down, bending me over, my balance tricky with my hands behind my back. My face nearly touches the couch, but Iâm precariously held up by the wrists, the strain already making them ache. The warmth dripping between my thighs betrays me as my ass stings in residual little pulses, so raw and sore but spreading a pleasure through me that Iâve never known before.Â
I donât have time to dwell on it before Joel is grasping one hand on my hip, notching himself at my entrance. âPromise youâre gonna like this, that youâll never be able to think of anyone elseâs cock but daddy Joelâs,â he spews gruffly in my ear before he thrusts hard, one swift motion to bury himself inside of me. I scream out, the searing pain between my thighs making me wonder if Iâm being split open for good, if itâs possible that some things are just too big to fit in certain places of the body.Â
âFuuuuuuck,â Joel hisses through his teeth, making the tiniest thrusting motions to ensure heâs buried deep. Every movement pierces me with a new sting as my body desperately tries to adjust, to accommodate the horrible, overwhelming intrusion. âYou were not kiddinâ, sweetheart. Tightest fuckinâ pussy Iâve ever been in.â
I sob, unable to speak, unable to move as Joel thrusts brutally from the get go, his hips snapping with force, crashing into mine hard enough to bruise. The lewd sounds we make disgust me, because I know Iâm part of those sounds, my body enjoying the filthy things heâs saying, the way heâs taking me without remorse. He pulls himself out, clicking his tongue as he peers down between our bodies. âChrist, you are one sexy little bird. Poor little virgin bleedinâ on daddyâs cock.â
The thought horrifies me, making my stomach turn. âPlease,â I cry out, my body rocking with the motions as he starts to fuck me again, the strain on my wrists as Joel uses them to help thrust himself inside of me starting to gnaw deeper into them. Iâm like a ragdoll with the way heâs jerking me by my wrists, my body having no choice but to flail in time with the movements so that he can press himself deep on each cruel thrust inwards.
âYou want more? You begginâ already?â Joel grunts between his heavy breaths, sounding so cocky it makes me want to spin around and punch him. I settle for gritting my teeth instead, feeling my body slowly but surely melding into his. When Joel presses me down further, forcing an arch in my back, I whimper when his cock hits something sensitive, deep, primal. Fuck, is it something.Â
âOh, thatâs it. We got her now, donât we?â he says from above, continuing to stroke his cock along that spot repeatedly. I feel myself losing my will to fight, hating the pleasure but feeling myself lean into it slightly, my hips pressing back to meet his nearly against my will. âYou ever come before, sweetheart?â He leans in a little closer to ask the question, the pistoning of his hips slowing the slightest bit.
I refuse to answer, tears pooling in my eyes. I donât want him to take this from me, I donât want him to know anything about me. He jerks my wrists at the same time he slams his hips into me, and I whimper loudly, feeling the way heâs surely bruising my insides.Â
âIf you ainât figured it out yet, the rules are that you answer me when Iâm askinâ you a question if you know whatâs good for ya,â he spits out, and I shake my head, letting it hang limply.
âUse your words. Say âno, daddyâ,â he says with sinister condescension, stroking his own ego.
âN-no⊠daddyâŠâ I say, my tongue revolting against the words, bile climbing up my throat.
He moves his hand to my head, stroking carefully and softly. âOh, thatâs a shame. Thatâs a daaaamn shame. All pent up, yâare. But daddy will make it all better.â He sounds deranged, sick, like he truly believes that Iâm thankful to him for what heâs doing to me. I canât answer, my mouth gaping open just as he releases my wrists, letting me fall to the couch with a thud. My open mouth gets a mouthful of the cushions, making me sick over the fact that itâs probably full of god knows what due to its age and whatever things Joel seems to get up to in this apartment of his.
I blink as Joel grips tightly at my hips, wondering why he suddenly trusts my hands to be free, when it happens. He thrusts into that spot again, harsh and unforgiving, and I nearly see stars behind my eyes as the head of his cock punches against things I didnât even know were there. Thatâs why. Iâm incapacitated at this angle, brutally forced to enjoy the pleasure washing over my body as Joel takes from me, actually giving in return this time.
I bite my tongue hard, not wanting to give him any satisfaction for the tiny moans that are growing louder in my throat, desperate to be let out.
âLet me hear you, princess. Daddy doesnât do with quiet girls. I can feel you clampinâ down on my cock, know youâre lovinâ how I use you up like you were meant for it.â
I shake my head in protest, but a strangled sound escapes past my tight lips when Joel slams into me harder than he has yet, puffing hard as he fucks me like a greedy animal. He chuckles through heavy breaths, little whispers of thatâs it, come on, take it, flow freely from his nasty mouth.Â
I feel myself slip away, further gone from reality as the warmth spreads from my pelvis into my belly, coiling tight. Everything tingles, set on fire, the spot where Joel handles my hips with his fat fingers practically burning with a constant mix of pleasure and pain. I cry out when Joelâs cock pulls that feeling out from deep inside of me again, half a sob and half a moan as it crescendos, waves of pleasure crashing over me.
Joelâs grunts of approval, so brutish and debauched, sends a new wave of arousal through me. I tremble, eyes squeezed shut with my body completely out of my control, taken over by this boundless bliss. Itâs unlike anything Iâve ever felt before: heavenly warmth worlds above any of the pleasures Iâve known. This had to be what Joel was referring to, urging me towards, telling me he wanted to make me come. This had to be what I was missing out on all these years, hiding myself away. Was this the reason sex was so coveted, so sought after? Was this feeling⊠the reason heâs doing what he is to me right now? Â
It feels like itâs never ending, my body so rigid as it spasms yet pliant as he fucks into me harder and harder. I loathe the noises Iâm making that intermingle with his as I squeeze my eyes shut, enjoying it.
âFuck, fuck - thatâs it - f-fuck knew youâd love it. Come on my cock, baby, thatâs right.â Joelâs string of praises reach my ears as I come down from my high, limp and yielding to whatever it is he wants to do to me now. I have no fight - my bones turned to jelly, my body sore all over, my throat scratchy from the way heâd assaulted it earlier. I only have it in me to give the rest of myself over, whether I like it or not.Â
âS-so fuckinâ tight, lettinâ me take your virginity like a good little whore,â he punches out, pounding into my sensitive cunt like itâs saving his soul, like itâs the only thing he could ever care about. Iâm on the precipice of coming again, my nerves still frayed and on edge from the last one. A smaller but still powerful climax takes over, my body shuddering and tight, milking every last second of the pleasure.Â
âGonna blow my load into this pure little pussy, make it mine - fuck - gonna fill you up like the cocksleeve you are. P-probably never want to be without my fuckinâ load drippinâ out of you again. I-Iâm close, fuck -â Joel rambles as he ruts his hips deep, one final thrust and a grunt, and I feel him stall, pulsing into me.Â
Itâs all suddenly very still, an eerie quiet settling over the room. My entire body burns hot, the only thing keeping me from collapsing is Joelâs hands still anchored on my hips as he leaves his cock inside of me, plugging me up. I want to cry again at the sudden, overwhelming shame I feel, but I canât give him the satisfaction. I canât.
Joel pats my ass a few times, pulling out. I tremble hard, falling forward onto the couch without his hold, instantly curling in on myself. I resent the way Iâd noticed how empty I felt the second he was gone, how cold my body was without his warmth pressed into it. I dare to peer up at the sick man who stands above me, catching his breath, watching just as the last bit of his softening cock gets tucked back into his jeans. He swipes a hand across his forehead, gathering sweat, staring down at me with a darkened expression, grinning cockily.
When he plops down on the couch next to me, picking up the can of beans heâd been eating before, my mouth hangs open in surprise at how casual heâs acting. I watch his face shine with sweat, his breathing still labored, but everything else about his attitude would indicate he didnât just force himself on me.Â
I try to keep my expression neutral for my own safety as I feel something leak out of me, not even wanting to give him the smug satisfaction of having to confirm my suspicions about what it is. I do my best to position my body so he canât see between my legs as I try to pull my underwear up from where they sit near my knees, my jeans following. Joel only gives me a knowing glance as he takes a bite, conscious of the fact that a part of him sits inside my now soiled underwear, and a part of me now sits inside of his soul.Â
He shoves the can my way and I shrink back at his sudden motion, not taking it from him. âEat. I ainât havinâ you all weak and despondent for the next time.â
I feel my heart sink down past my ass, my stomach plummeting along with it as nausea overtakes me, a dizzying sensation clouding my vision. He couldnât have said what I think he did. I - Iâd paid my debt, whatever it was he thought I owed him for saving me when I didnât even ask him to. For saving me and then doing exactly what that man had planned to do anyways under the guise of a caring, noble rescuer.
âN-next timeïżœïżœïżœ?â I manage to make my mouth move, my throat to produce a sound, pushing the question out in a voice that doesnât sound like my own.
âKnow you said not to call you stupid but my house, my rules, anâ sweetheartâŠâ He looks at me under his raised, expectant brows. âMy stupid, stupid girl. Did you really think that would be enough? That Iâd get an opportunity every man dreams of - an untouched, perfect pussy like yours, to keep all for mâself, and throw it all away?â Heâs creeping closer as he speaks, shrouding me on the couch with his huge frame, caging in where I lay, my body wound as tightly as it can to itself to block whatever heâs thinking of doing next. âNow you donât think daddy is that dumb to let you go knowinâ all that, do you?â
I sit stunned silent underneath him, wide eyes fixed in a tortured gaze on his rugged face, but his hand squeezing my thigh is warning enough for me to shake my head, stuttering out an answer. âN-no. NoâŠâ I whisper.Â
Two approving pats on my cheek send Joel slinking back slightly, his dark, unhinged eyes staring holes into me as they roam over my body. Despite nothing even visible - my chest hidden underneath my arms and legs clamped tightly - I feel violated, objectified.Â
Terror rips through my chest as reality settles in slowly but surely. I look at the man Iâd trusted once, whoâd shown himself to be a friend, or at the least an ally, currently feasting his eyes on me like Iâm a product. Which now, I suppose I am. A whore. His whore.
âNow,â he says, licking his lips, that hungry gaze already returning, a bulge appearing in his jeans and stretching the fabric. âAll Iâve got to do is decide just how long Iâll keep ya for.â
dividers by @/saradika-graphics!
#fic: indebted#joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#dark!joel miller fanfiction#dark!joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller x f!reader#x reader#the last of us fanfiction#tlou fanfiction#dddne joel miller#dead dove joel miller
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Meant to Be
Marcus Acacius x Reader
Summary: He fought for his freedom and your hand.
In ancient Rome, a love story unfolded between a bold gladiator named Marcus Acacius and a beautiful noble lady, whose heart longed for freedom.Â
However, their love faced impossible obstacles, primarily the strict and overbearing father of the noblewoman.
Marcus, a strong and skilled warrior, fought in the grand arenas of Rome.
His every victory brought him one step closer to the freedom he yearned for. Little did he know that destiny had something more in store for him.
One day, as Marcus stepped into the arena, his eyes met the gaze of a noble lady, whose name was yet unknown to him.Â
Her radiance captivated his soul, and from that moment on, Marcus fought with a new fire within him, fueled by the desire to win not only his freedom but also the heart of the lady.
Your paths intertwined further when, against all odds, Marcus caught the attention of the noble lady's father, a stern and unyielding man who demanded nothing but the highest standards for his daughter.Â
He saw potential in Marcus, both as a gladiator and as a worthy suitor for his beloved daughter. If Marcus could prove his worth.
You on the other hand.
You were not blind.
You could see the gladiator looking at you in a certain way.
You could also see just how handsome he was. How great his built was.
You noticed the way he moved, the way he always won. You liked him.
As Marcus continued to triumph in the arena, his reputation grew, and whispers of his love for you reached your ears.Â
In secret, you exchanged stolen glances and heartfelt letters, your love blossoming despite the obstacles that stood in your way.
Determined to prove himself worthy, Marcus embarked on a difficult journey, training tirelessly to become more than just a gladiator.Â
He studied the arts, philosophy, and etiquette, moulding himself into a man who would be worthy of your hand.
The day of reckoning arrived when Marcus was granted his freedom.Â
With his newfound liberty, he approached your father, humbly seeking his blessing to marry his daughter.Â
Your father, initially sceptical, witnessed the change Marcus had undergone, and his heart softened.Â
He recognised the genuine love that existed between his daughter and the brave gladiator.
"You may marry my daughter." your father said and Marcus felt fulfilled.Â
His freedom was nothing compared to the feeling of his love and dedication finally reaching his goal.
With tears of joy running down your face, you ran into his arms, finally embracing Marcus.Â
"I knew you would do it. I knew you would come for me." you whispered.
"Always." he replied before embracing your lips with his.
It all felt so right.
Meant to be.
In a grand ceremony, surrounded by many, Marcus Acacius and you, a noblewoman exchanged vows of eternal love, promising to cherish and protect each other for the rest of your lives.
Marcus, the once-captive gladiator, became a free man, not only in body but also in spirit.Â
Together, you embraced a future filled with love, respect, and shared dreams, forever grateful for the journey that had led you to this moment of true happiness.
And it was only you and your husband.
Taglist:Â
@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyouÂ
@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischiefÂ
@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryenÂ
~Masterlist~
ËAO3Ë
/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/
#Marcus Acacius x Reader#marcus acacius x you#marcus acacius x female reader#marcus acacius x y/n#marcus acacius fanfiction#general marcus acacius#general acacius#gladiator ll#gladiator ii#gladiator 2#marcus acacius smut#Marcus Acacius imagine#Marcus Acacius imagines#Marcus Acacius x fem reader#Marcus Acacius fanfiction#Marcus Acacius fanfic#x reader#fanfiction#x female reader#gladiator x reader#gladiator imagine#gladiator imagines#gladiator 2 fanfiction#gladiator II fanfiction#pedro pascal character
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Only When It's Us â JJK ,, index ,, about taglist
Chapter 02 â distraction â
fic summary: you both say itâs nothing serious, but with every touch and argument, it gets harder to stay away.
nsfw warnings: smut; lots of kissing, lots of touching lol, oral (male recieving, fem too? kinda), sucking fingers, doggy style, unprotected sex (shes using birth control so yep, be safe!) use of âgood girlâ
wc: 6k
đ permanent taglist: @lovieku @kyuupii @fluttershypoo @deluluisdasolulu @ddanasjk @mar-lo-pap @jungkooks-wife @diamondjeon @nnybtitts08 @lil0u0 @butnotmontana @fr0ggieth1nk @minimoninini @whoa-jo @lola75111 @iswearimover5feetall @rispwr @leemonis-blog
đ series taglist: @deepikhaprakash @rjooniesdimples @sweetmimosa28
abt series taglist: send me an ask w the series title !!
âi have to go.â
âwhy donât you just come back home? you can start over, and this time, maybe youâll be more like your brother.â
you sigh.
âmom, i donât want to be him,â you say quietly, trying to keep the frustration out of your voice. on the other end, you hear her let out a soft, disapproving tsk, a sound that always manages to make you feel a little smaller.
âarenât you clearly struggling with school? if you were here with us, with your brother, weâd help you. youâd be fine,â she insists, as if coming home would magically fix everything.
you roll your eyes.
âi really have to go.â
â___, just listen toââ
but before she can finish, you end the call, staring at the blank screen for a moment.
thereâs an unsettling feeling in your chest, one that refuses to fade, no matter how much you try to brush it off. its like a quiet reminder of all the things youâre trying to avoid.
go back home?
after everything youâve been through to study what you want, to finally live on your own terms. every argument, every latenight fight with your parents, all just to claim a bit of freedom.
you worked so hard to break free from their expectations, to stand on your own.
you even transferred universities just to escape the constant pressure back in your hometown. no matter what you did, it was never enough. every choice was somehow wrong, not âtheir way.â
you canât go back now.
not until youâve made it, not until you have something real to prove them wrong. you have to be successful, if only to show them that your way was the right way all along.
âhey, are you done thinking? never seen anyone contemplate cheerios this hard.â
min yoongiâs low voice pulls you out of your thoughts. you look up, finding him behind the cash register, his lips curving into a small smile.
âjust wondering if i can actually trust your storeâs products. what if you are some sort of cheerio secret agent and you're trying to poison me?â you joke, handing him the money.
âoh no, you figured it out. weâve been poisoning the cheerios. now how am i gonna explain to my boss that our mission failed?â he dramatically placesb a hand on his forehead as if you revealed his deepest darkest secret. you canât help but chuckle, the tension in your chest loosening just a bit.
âbad day?â he asks, his gaze softening a bit as he opens the cash register.
min yoongi; your friend.
well, he's more like your senior. he graduated last year and he is working parttime at this convenience store cuz he thinks in this way he could spend some time outside.
you didn't question him about it any further.
you donât usually come here unless itâs an emergency, and breakfast for tomorrow qualifies as pretty urgent, or so you tell yourself.
âsomething like that,â you say, your voice barely above a whisper.
he nods slightly. âwell,â he begins, âiâm sorry i canât give you a discount,â he adds, trying to lighten the mood.
you chuckle, the corners of your mouth lifting. âaw, thatâs too bad. i thought i might get these cheerios for free.â
he smiles softly, âmaybe some other time,"
you smile back at yoongi and turn to leave. but then you almost bump your head against a manâs chest, stumbling back in surprise.
that was close.
you look up to apologize, but your words get caught in your throat as you take in his appearance.
heâs handsome.
no, that doesnât even begin to cover it. his face is sculpted to perfection, with sharp cheekbones and a jawline that could cut glass. his dark eyes seem to pierce right through you, and his long, dark hair falls effortlessly over his forehead.
but thereâs something else,
he looks... mad?
you quickly gather yourself, your cheeks warming slightly. âsorry,â you blurt out, stepping aside to let him pass.
as you walk out of the store, you catch a snippet of conversation behind you.
âare you still upset about her, jungkook?â yoongiâs voice carries just enough for you to hear.
you try to shake it off, not wanting to dwell on whatever is unfolding behind you. itâs not your business, after all.
you step outside, the cool air hitting your face as you leave the store, and try to focus on the tasks ahead of you.
âit doesnât make any sense, hyung,â jungkook scoffs, the frustration bubbling up inside him.
âwhen did she ever make sense?â yoongi replies dryly, not backing down as he meets jungkookâs glare. the tension in the air feels thick, but yoongi isnât afraid to speak his mind.
âfrom my point of view, youâre now a free man. free from all the bullshit youâve been through,â yoongi explains, hoping to lift jungkookâs spirits.
âwhat bullshit? i was happy. we were happy,â jungkook frowns, his confusion evident. he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, struggling to comprehend yoongiâs words.
âthatâs what she wanted you to think,â yoongi replies, his tone serious. âand to be honest, thatâs what you always did. you did whatever she wanted. you changed for her.â
âi loved her,â jungkook insists, his voice a bit softer but still filled with conviction, as if saying it out loud would make it true.
âdid you? really?â yoongi presses, searching jungkookâs eyes for any hint of doubt. he knows this is a tough conversation, but it needs to be talked out.
jungkook looks away and mutters. âyou donât get it,â
yoongiâs expression softens. he presses his lips together as he looks at jungkook, feeling bad for him. âiâm sorry, jungkook. but you really have to let it go now. itâs been two weeks. itâs time to start moving on.â
jungkook stays silent.
instead of responding, he reaches for a lollipop displayed near the cash register, the bright colors contrasting sharply with his gloomy mood. he hands yoongi some money, more than what the lollipop costs, as if heâs paying for more than just candy.
âdo you want the change, or can i keep it as a tip for my great service slash friendship?â yoongi tries to lighten the mood, hoping to bring a smile to jungkookâs face.
and it does.
jungkookâs lips curl into a faint smile, a small but genuine response. âkeep it,â he says softly.
as jungkook turns to leave, yoongi watches him go, feeling sad for his friend.
âbad day indeed.â
you're sat on a bench in the park near the convenience store, lost in your own thoughts. the quiet sounds of the evening settle around you, the faint rustle of leaves, the distant hum of traffic, and your own sighs mingling with the cool air.
youâre not really thinking about anything in particular, just letting your mind wander in that aimless way it does when everything feels overwhelming.
then, a loud voice cuts through your thoughts.
âno, i know you're hiding something from me!â someone snaps, his voice taut with irritation. âfine! have it your way then.â
curious, you glance over and recognize him immediately; the same man from earlier at the store, the one youâd nearly bumped into.
heâs pacing as he talks on his phone, one hand running through his dark hair in exasperation. his jaw is clenched, his brows furrowed, and you can practically feel the tension radiating off him even from a distance.
after a moment, he ends the call with an aggravated sigh, stuffing his phone into his pocket as he makes his way into the park, still visibly upset. he barely notices his surroundings as he walks closer to where youâre sitting.
he sighs, tilting his head back and closing his eyes, muttering something under his breath as if willing the frustration to melt away. you canât help but stare a little, like an idiot.
then his eyes snap open and land directly on you.
âgot a problem with me?â his voice is sharp, cutting through the silence between you.
you blink, startled, and stand up instinctively. âexcuse me?â
he turns fully to face you, his eyes never leaving yours. âi asked, you got a problem with me?â
âno.â you shake your head, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
âgood.â
wow. nice attitude.
just as youâre about to walk away, he calls out again.
ânever seen you around here before.â
âpardon?â you turn back, surprised.
âyouâre yoongi's friend, right?â he asks,
you cross your arms, giving him a wary look. âwhy do you care?â
he shrugs, almost nonchalant. âmy bad, just curious. never seen yoongi smile at a normal customer before, so i assumed.â
âoh,â you reply, softening just a bit. âwell, i guess you could say we're friends.â
he raises an eyebrow, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. âyou guess?â
you offer a small shrug of your own. âhe used to help me when i was still a freshman, and he still tries to whenever he can. i'd say he's like my teacher, in a way. itâs not like we hang out or anything, though.â
he tilts his head, considering your words. âwell, consider yourselves friends. trust me, he doesnât just help anyone.â
you narrow your eyes slightly, still wary. âand who are you, exactly?â
âjeon jungkook,â he says, extending a hand with a surprisingly polite nod. instinctively, you reach out and shake it, his grip firm. âsince you're yoongi's friend, i think we go to the same university. though this is the first time iâm seeing you.â
âsame, i am ___,â you pull your hand back.
âwhat are you doing here, in the middle of the night? didnât your parents ever tell you not to go out alone?â he asks, the way he talks is somewhere between teasing and serious. you can't quiet get what it is but something about it grates on your nerves, like he's playing at being concerned but in a way that feels almost mocking.
âi could ask you the same thing,â you shoot back, meeting his gaze head on.
he doesnât flinch, only tilts his head slightly. âi always come here,â he says, his voice calm, almost like a matterof fact.
âsame,â you respond. âduring the day.â
he quirks a brow, âso why are you in my night shift?â
you scoff, a laugh slipping out before you can stop it. âthis isnât your place or âshift,â you know."
âwell, you come here during the day; i come here at night. sounds like shifts to me,â he says with a shrug, and you catch the playfulness on his face.
âguess iâm overtiming, then,â you say, glancing away to hide your own smirk. âdonât mind me.â
he stays silent.
âyouâve got your own shit to deal with, huh?â he says, his voice breaking the quiet.
âwhy are you talking to me?â you blurt out, catching him a little off guard. âi mean, you donât even know me.â
he raises an eyebrow, unphased. âi could ask you the same thing,â he replies, mimicking your answer from before.
you narrow your eyes, folding your arms. âi donât think i want to talk about my problems with a random stranger.â
âproblemsâŠâ he echoes, looking you up and down like heâs trying to figure you out. âlet me guess. got into a fight with your boyfriend?â
âno,â you say quickly, rolling your eyes. âi donât have one.â for a second, you think you catch a flicker of surprise on his face. âwhat about you? girlfriend mad at you?â
his face shifts, something almost vulnerable passing over his features before he looks away. âguess you could say that,â he mutters. âsince she broke things off with me.â
a silence stretches between you two.
âiâm⊠sorry to hear that,â you finally say, feeling the awkwardness settle around you.
you didn't expect that.
honestly, the idea of someone like him getting dumped hadnât even crossed your mind. a guy who looks like thatâthat intense auraâdoesnât exactly seem like the type to get left behind.
you assumed heâd be the one calling the shots, the one walking away. but here he is, single and clearly dealing with the aftermath of something thatâs weighing on him. its surprising.
a thought crosses yourmind.
if someone could leave him, someone who had a place in his life and a claim to his heart, maybe heâs not as perfect as he seems on the outside. maybe thereâs something beneath the surface, something thatâs harder to deal with than his looks would suggest.
itâs like a puzzle you didnât even mean to start solving, yet here you are, wondering if thereâs more to him than just that handsome face.
but then you shake the thought away. heâs a stranger. a random guy you happened to bump into, quite literally, at a park in the middle of the night. itâs not like youâll see him again after tonight. or, at least, thatâs what youâre telling yourself.
because, really, why should you care?
whatever his story is, itâs none of your business.
âanyway, hope you figure your problems out.â he says, his gaze flickering away as if heâs eager to dodge any deeper conversation.
âlikewise,â you reply.
without warning, he pulls a lollipop from his pocket, holding it out to you. âhere,â he says, waiting for you to take it.
you reach out slowly, raising an eyebrow. âthanks?â
he smirks, âagain, did your parents never tell you not to take candy from strangers?â
âmaybe i like to be a little rebellious,â you say, smirking back at him and he shakes his head smiling.
âwell, go ahead, eat it. i donât want you tossing it away. i spent a lot on that sucker,â he says, a playful grin spreading across his face. despite the oddness of the moment, a corner of your mouth quirks up.
you unwrap the lollipop, examining it with a critical eye before giving him a look that says it all.
he catches it, tilting his head in curiosity. âwhat?â
âi donât think i like raspberry flavor,â you admit, holding the lollipop up like a trophy of sorts.
he squints at you, âyouâve never tasted one before?â
you shrug, trying to sound nonchalant. âi donât like raspberries, so iâm guessing this is more of the same.â
he shakes his head, lips twitching into a smirk. âthatâs pretty bold, making assumptions without even trying it.â
âjust give it a taste; maybe you'll like it,â he suggests, a teasing smile forming on his lips, clearly wanting you to try it. deep down, he doesn't even like raspberry flavor; he just picked it out randomly at the store.
âuh, no thanks. i donât want that nasty taste on my tongue,â you reply, scrunching your nose a little . âbut thanks, you could haveââ
your words are abruptly cut off as he grabs your hand, the lollipop still held tightly between your fingers. in one swift motion, he leans in, wrapping his mouth around it. his tongue swirls around the candy, and then he pulls it out, his lips glistening with a reddish-pink hue that matches the flavor.
you're completely taken aback, eyes widening in shock.
oh what the fuck.
âyeah, youâre right. it does taste nasty,â he says, licking his lips as he releases your hand. âgive it to me, i'll just throw it away or somethingâ
suddenly, the lollipop feels trivial compared to what he just did. you stand there, completely speechless, your mind and heart racing as you try to process what jus happened.
âwhat?â he stares at you.
âyouâre good with your tongue,â you say, the words slipping out before you can really think them through.
he pauses, his eyes widening for a second, and he chokes on nothing, almost like heâs been caught off guard mid-breath. âuh, what?â he finally manages, blinking rapidly.
realizing how that mightâve sounded, âi just meant... the lollipop. you seemed pretty skilled with it,â you clarify, though youâre aware itâs not really helping.
what are you even trying to say?
he looks at you, a smirk playing on his lips now. âuh-huh, sure,â he says, teasing you. âthatâs what you meant.â
you roll your eyes, trying to play it cool. âdonât flatter yourself, i was just making an observation.â
but the way heâs looking at you now, dark eyes glittering with amusement and something else you canât quite place, makes it hard to pretend that slip of the tongue didnât mean more than you intended.
âso, do you want to suck on it?â
âhuh?â you blink.
suck on what now?
âthe lollipopâ he clarifies, a small smile playing on his lips.
oh.
you clear your throat, fighting to keep a neutral expression. âno, definitely not, especially now that you had your tongue all over it.â you try to scrunch your nose, but any attempt at showing disgust falls flat with the heat rising in your cheeks.
âalright then, just asking if you changed your mind,â he shrugs, still holding your gaze.
âi still donât want it,â you say quickly, trying to sound convincing.
âokay.â he blinks, unfazed.
âokay,â you repeat, awkwardly.
he gestures to the lollipop still in your hand. âuh, so⊠are you gonna keep holding it?â
you glance down, pulling your hand back. âiâm gonna throw it away,â you declare, though it feels a bit ridiculous now, given everything that just happened.
âi hope so,â he says, one side of his lips quirking up.
why do you kind of like his smile?
you try to shake your thought off, tossing the lollipop into a nearby trash can, trying to act as casual as possible.
âwell, guess that's the end of that,â you say, hoping to sound nonchalant. he nods as he crosses his arms.
you raise an eyebrow, mimicking his stance. âdo you usually hand out half-eaten lollipops to strangers?â
he laughs, low and soft, the sound surprisingly warm in the quiet night. âonly when they look like they need a little distraction.â
you tilt your head. âoh? and what made you think i needed one?â
his eyes meet yours, his expression softening. âjust a hunch,â he says, his voice dropping to a murmur. âwe all got stuff weâd rather not think about, right?â
a pause.
thereâs something unspoken between you two, a quiet understanding in the way you hold each otherâs gaze.
he's right.
you are stressing about things you'd rather not think about, things that seem to cling to your mind no matter how hard you try to push them away.
and then there's him, a stranger but somehow not, going through his own mess. you can see it in his tired eyes, the way he keeps looking off into the distance as if trying to shake off whatever weight he's carrying.
you realize you donât mind it; you donât mind his company, or even the strange comfort of this shared silence.
both of you are here, each trying to forget whatever it is thatâs eating at you. maybe thatâs why this moment feels so easy.
âyeah,â you finally say, âguess we do.â
âi gotta go now,â you announce, hoping to put an end to whatever weird tension is building between the two of you.
he doesn't say anything. no goodbyes, no attempts to stop you. so you turn and start walking away, trying to shake off whatever just happened.
but before you can take more than a few steps, his hand shoots out, wrapping around your wrist. you stop, surprised, and turn back to face him. his grip isnât tight, but itâs firm enough to make you pause.
you meet his gaze, and there's something in his eyesâsomething intense, something that makes your stomach flip.
âwould you like a distraction?â he asks, voice low, almost like a whisper meant just for you.
you blink, not sure if you heard him right. âwhat?â you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.
instead of answering, he tugs you gently closer. your body stumbles forward, and your hands land on his chest to steady yourself. his heartbeat is strong under your palm, and suddenly, everything feels too close, too intense.
he looks down at you, his eyes flickering over your face like heâs searching for something. âi think i do,â he mutters. âdonât you?â
your mind is racing, trying to make sense of this.
is he asking what you think heâs asking?
heâs a stranger. someone you barely know beyond a couple of conversations and an awkward encounter in a convenience store.
yet thereâs something about the way heâs looking at you, something that makes it hard to think straight.
âyes,â you hear yourself say before you can even process it.
his lips curve into a satisfied smile, and without another word, he leans in and kisses you.
the world seems to stop as his mouth meets yours. itâs not hesitant or soft; itâs urgent, as if heâs been wanting this for longer than the short time youâve known him. his hands slide up to your face, cupping your cheeks as he deepens the kiss.
your fingers clutch his shirt, feeling the heat of his body against yours. itâs messy and impulsive, and he doesn't even care that youâre both in the middle of a park, under the dim glow of the streetlights.
right now, all you can think about is him. the way he tastes, the way he kisses you desperately.
maybe you do need this distraction.
his hands grip your waist, pulling you closer, and you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, letting the kiss deepen. his lips are soft, and you moan as if you're melting into the kiss. there's something about the way his mouth moves against yours; like he's been waiting to do this.
âwaitââ you pant as pull back, your heart pounding against your ribs, trying to gather your thoughts. he looks into your eyes, his brows furrowing slightly as he asks in a low voice, âwhat happened?â
âwe're... we're outside,â you point out, glancing around.
he tilts his head, his brows raising slightly as if thatâs the least of his concerns. âso?â his voice is low and almost teasing, like he finds your hesitation cute.
you let out a scoffing laugh, âwhat do you mean so?weeâre literally in a childrenâs park.â you gesture to the swings and slides nearby, deserted at this hour but still... itâs a public space.
he pauses for a second, âmy carâs parked just over there,â he nods towards a sleek vehicle at the edge of the park, his lips curling into a smile. âwe could, uh... relocate orââ
before you can even process that, your curiosity gets the better of you. âwaitâ you have a car?â you cut in, a little surprised.
he chuckles. âyeah, and itâs a pretty one at that.â thereâs a glint in his eyes that says heâs enjoying this back-and-forth with you, like itâs some sort of game.
you sigh, still trying to wrap your head around the craziness of this entire situation. âokay,â you murmur, almost to yourself, deciding to just go with it. whatâs the worst that could happen?
he releases his grip on you, but only so he can grab your hand and guide you towards the car. the walk feels a little awkward now, a heavy tension hanging in the air. you're not sure what to say.
whatâs the protocol for walking towards a car with a guy youâre about to hook up with?
as if sensing your nerves, he gives your hand a gentle squeeze. âcome on, my carâs comfy. donât worry,â he says with a grin, trying to lighten the mood. the way heâs holding your hand... itâs surprisingly tender, making it feel just a little less awkward.
when you reach the car, he opens the back seat door for you. you hesitate for a second, âyou wonât, like, kidnap me or something, right?â you half-joke.
he lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. âfor someone whoâs so aware of the things you shouldnât be doing, you sure do them anyway,â he teases. his words send a shiver down your spine, both a warning and an invitation.
but you ignore that nagging voice in the back of your mind. instead, you climb into the seat and he follows you right away.
âwhy are youââ your words are cut off as he crashes his lips against yours, the urgency in his kiss making you lose your breath. one of his hands grips your waist, pulling you against him, while the other tangles in your hair, tugging gently to tilt your head for better access.
the way his lips move against yours, hot and hungry, sends sparks shooting down your spine, and before you know it, you're moaning into his mouth, matching his intensity. your hands scramble to find something to hold onto, eventually locking behind his neck as if he's your lifeline.
âare we seriously gonna fuck in your car?â you gasp, your words shaky when he pulls away just enough to start trailing hot kisses down the side of your neck. your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, drawing him closer.
âno,â he breathes and sucks on a sensitive spot just beneath your ear, his teeth grazing the skin before he soothes it with a slow lick. âjust couldnât stop myself,â he admits, voice low and breathy, and then his mouth is back on yours, devouring you with a hunger that makes your head spin.
your hands move restlessly over his broad shoulders, wanting to feel more, wishing his clothes were gone so you could touch him everywhere.
his hands roam your body like he's memorizing it, fingers pressing into the curves of your waist, teasingly brushing against your chest. each touch has you arching into him, wishing he'd just tear your clothes apart already.
it's all too good.
too overwhelming, and before you know it, five minutes have passed with the two of you tangled in each other. when he finally pulls back, panting, his lips are swollen and glistening. your chest rises and falls rapidly as you try to catch your breath, both of you staring at each other in the dim light of the car.
heâs leaning back slightly, his hard on pressing against your thigh. itâs impossible not to notice how turned on he is, and it only makes your own arousal spike.
you're so fucking wet right now.
youâre laid back on the seat, eyes locked on him, watching the way he runs a hand through his disheveled hair, pushing it back revealing his forehead.
âhotel? or my place?â he asks, trying to catch his breath âhotelâs just a minute away, but my place⊠well, itâs a bit further.â
you can practically see the options laid out in your mind like a checklist.
a) go to the hotel, have your fun, and slip away without looking back. no strings, no regrets. just a quick fuck and disappear like it never happened.
b) go to his place, let him fuck the shit out of you, see if heâs worth all this heat between your thighs. maybe wake up in his bed with his arms still wrapped around you... and if he's good enough, maybe get his number so it doesnât have to be a one time thing.
you bite your lip, your decision already made before you even realize it.
âyours.â
the drive to his apartment is quick, the tension between you both barely held back. you're glad itâs late at night, because the two of you canât seem to keep your hands off each other and you don't want anyone witnessing it.
the second you step into his apartment, the door slams shut behind you, and it's a scramble to rid each other of clothing. shirts are yanked off, belts undone, pants shoved down until you're both stumbling towards his bedroom in a mess of heated kisses and needy touches.
âo-oh fuckâyes baby, suck it just like that,â jungkook throws his head back, moaning, his breath ragged. heâs sprawled on the bed, legs spread wide, hands gripping the sheets. you're on your knees between his thighs, sucking him hard, your lips stretching around his thick length.
you glance up at him, eyes half lidded, watching the way his abs flex as he tries to keep himself steady. âshit... you look so fucking hot,â he rasps out, voice rough. his gaze darkens, and he pushes himself up, one hand threading through your hair.
âcan you take it, baby?â he asks, his voice low, a hint of a challenge in his tone.
you know exactly what heâs asking. you nod, barely managing it with your mouth full, and he smiles, almost wickedly, his eyes gleaming.
âgood,â he murmurs, his grip tightening just enough on your hair. âtap me if itâs too much.â and with that, he starts moving his hips, fucking into your mouth with slow, deep thrusts.
you gag slightly as he pushes deeper, but you relax your throat, trying to take him in. the room is filled with the wet, obscene sounds of him moving in and out, his groans echoing off the walls.
âfuckâyouâre taking me so well, baby,â he praises, his voice thick and raspy, sending a wave of heat straight to your core. each time his cock hits the back of your throat, it forces a choked gasp from him, his hands instinctively tightening in your hair.
your eyes water, tears pooling at your lashes, but you donât stop, even as your throat aches. your nails dig into his firm thighs, using them for balance as he fucks your throat. you want to show him just how much you can handle.
âiâm gonnaââ he grunts, voice rough and strained. a hot burst of his release fills your mouth, and you swallow it all, not breaking eye contact with him for a second. his chest heaves as he watches you, mesmerized, as your tongue slides slowly along his length, cleaning up every drop. his jaw clenches, the sight clearly driving him wild.
âget up,â he orders, voice still a little breathless, and you obey instantly, letting him pull you to your feet. âon the bed, all fours.â
you get onto the mattress, positioning yourself as he asked. there's a moment of stillness as you feel his gaze roam over your exposed body. your heart races, anticipation building as you wait for his next move.
âyouâre dripping,â he murmurs, leaning in closer until his breath is hot against your soaked core. he licks a slow, deliberate stripe along your folds, and your eyes flutter shut, a soft, breathy moan escaping your lips. his mouth envelops your pussy, sucking and licking with an rhythm that makes your thighs tremble.
he pulls back just enough to catch his breath before moving up, positioning himself between your legs. his right hand trails upward, skimming over your skin until his fingers brush against your lips.
instinctively, you part them, taking his fingers into your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue around them. the low chuckle that escapes him tells you just how much he enjoys it.
âyou like that, hm?â he asks. you moan softly around his fingers, your response muffled but desperate.
he withdraws his fingers, his lips curving into a satisfied smirk. leaning down, he wraps an arm around your waist, lifting you slightly until your back is against his chest. you can feel his length pressing against your ass, you move your hips a little causing a little friction.
his hands slide over your breasts, kneading them with just enough pressure to send shivers down your spine.
you melt into his touch, your head lolling back against his shoulder as his fingers pinch and roll your hardened nipples, sending sparks of pleasure through your body.
âwant me to fuck you, baby?â his voice is soft against your shoulder as he places feather light kisses along your skin. he nips gently, his hands never stopping their teasing, and you canât help the whimper that escapes when his fingers pinch just a bit harder.
ây-yes,â you mewl, voice shaky with need, âfuck me, jungkook.â
he squeezes your breasts harder, a groan rumbling from his chest as he sinks his teeth lightly into the curve of your shoulder.
âyeah? can i fuck you raw?â he whispers, his breath hot against your ear.
âyes,â you gasp, your voice barely more than a whimper. âp-please.â
his grip on you loosens slightly, and he leans back to look at you, his eyes dark, like he's stopping himself. âyou sure?â he asks, one last time, his tone gentle but urgent.
you nod quickly, breathless. âiâm on the pill,â you assure him, and the tension in his shoulders eases.
âfuck. okay, bend over.â
without hesitation, you resume your previous position, arching your back and presenting yourself to him. he groans softly at the sight, his hand sliding down to rub slow circles over your entrance.
he teases you, slipping a finger inside, making you moan softly as your walls flutter around him. he withdraws his finger, watching the way you clench around nothing, desperate for more.
grabbing his cock, he taps the swollen tip against your slick hole. you whine, impatience leaking into your voice, âjust fuck me already.â
a smirk curves his lips, and without another word, he pushes into you.
you grip the sheets tightly as you take him in fully, your walls stretching to accommodate his thick length. a choked gasp escapes your lips, eyes squeezing shut at the delicious burn that quickly morphs into pleasure.
each inch fills you so completely, leaving you breathless, your body trembling at the feeling.
âfuck,â he groans behind you, his voice low and rough, a sound that makes your toes curl. âyouâre so tight, baby... taking me so fucking good.â the words are almost a growl, filled with barely restrained control as he fights the urge to pound into you.
his hands move to your hips, gripping them hard enough to leave marks, steadying himself as he sinks even deeper.
your moans spill freely now, raw and needy, muffled slightly by the pillow you bury your face into. he starts to move, slowly at first, pulling out just enough before thrusting back in, his cock brushing against that sweet spot inside you.
the rhythm is torturously slow, each stroke making you whimper, your back arching even further in a silent plea for more.
âplease... more,â you manage to gasp out, your voice shaky. âjungkook, i need it.. need you.â
âyeah?â he rasps, picking up the pace, thrusts becoming sharper, each one driving you into the mattress. âwant it harder, baby? want me to ruin you?â
âyes.. yes mmph- more!â you cry, your voice breaking as he slams into you harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. your nails claw at the sheets, the friction of his hips against your ass making stars dance behind your eyelids.
his fingers snake around to your front, finding your swollen clit, and he rubs it in tight, quick circles. your entire body jolts, your hips bucking back against him as you let out a loud, broken moan.
âoh, fuck, thatâs it, that's a good fucking girl,â he hisses, feeling you clench around him, your walls fluttering as you near the edge.
âyouâre gonna cum for me, arenât you?â he growls against your ear, bending over you now, his hot breath fanning against your neck. he bites down on your shoulder, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to drive you wild.
âyou're gonna cum like the good girl you are?â
âyes n-ngh.. iâm close.. s-so close,â you whimper, your thighs trembling uncontrollably. his fingers press harder against your clit, his thrusts turning frantic.
âcum with me, babyâ he demands, his voice thick and commanding. thatâs all it takes. your body shatters. your vision going white as you scream his name. your walls squeeze him so tightly, milking his cock, and with a deep, guttural groan, he loses himself too, spilling inside you as his thrusts grow sloppy.
he stays buried inside you, his chest heaving against your back, both of you panting heavily. he leans down to press soft, lazy kisses along your shoulder.
after everything that just happened. you've made up your mind.
you're definitely going to ask for his number.
a/n: erm.. don't get into random strangers cars !! haha
#jeon jungkook#jeon jungkook x reader#fanfic#bts jungkook#jungkook smut#bts fanfiction#jungkook fic#jeon jungkook fanfic#jjk x y/n#jungkook x y/n#fanfiction
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the stars between, theodore nott.
SUMMARY â you were his world, and he was your galaxy.
WARNINGS â nothing but fluff, short and sweet.
AUTHOR NOTE â i did write this off half an hour of sleep. so donât kill me! written while listening to this song here.
WORD COUNT â 579.
it was more chillier then you thought it would be tonight. shivering in your loose illâfitting sweater, that was more then two folds bigger then you. the fabric swallowing up your frame casting a blanket over your shoulders.
take a deep inhale, sucking in the air around you. drinking in the sweet scent of woody, a musk like scent with a hint of cigarette smoke.
he was here.
he always was. this was like his second home, a safe space he inclined himself to share, no grace your presence with. his own little paradise. a heaven in the hell you, and half of the students were doomed to live.
the with threat of death, and destruction.
you wouldn't pass up a chance to live a little on the edge, even if you had to share it with an snake. you didn't need that it was him out of all of them.
he was once of the nicer ones, on the eyes and in personality. theodore nott, was a man with a heart of gold. doomed to follow his family foot steps.
"i see your darling friends let you go." he voiced dragging out word darling in a mocking tone, rolling his eyes. flicking the ash from his cigarette on to the railing before him, inhaling the smoke filled air around him. as it burned his lungs in a familiar sensation.
a gentle, almost comforting taste of freedom.
ignoring his word of distain for your friend. closing up on the older male (only by a few months, which he had no problem rubbing in your face ever chance he got.) snatching the cigarette from his frail, skinny hands. taking a few puffs before flicking it to the ground, trapping it beneath your heel, twisting your foot on it. snuffing out the flames.
"rude." he mumbled with half lipped eyes, turning his body towards you. pushing his back against the railing, looking you up and down.
"whatever teddy," you giggled rolling your eyes. pushing his shoulder back. pushing his further into the railing of the astronomy tower.
raising up his eyebrow, in curiosity. "oh so i'm teddy now. what happened to theodore amore mioâ? i thought i was in time out." he teased tapping his lips with his index finger, admiring your facial expression.
". . . you know what. yeahâ theodore!"
snickering his teeth, waving his index finger back and forth in a taunting gesture. "no it's teddy tesoro'."
pulling your body closer to him, soaking up all your body warmth. he could be like this for days. just laid up in your arms. pushing away the inevitable doom, that seems to be knocking on the doorsteps of the castle.
moving your body around, snaking your arms around the older males torso. digging your nails deep into the Theo's side. which for sure would leave crescent moon marks on his back. a reminder, a claim, a mark that his was yours. and only yours.
"owâ i know you like it rough. but hell woman." Theo hissed slapping at your hands playful. grinning like a mad man. oh how much he loved, no loves you. you were the stars in his bleak skies. the light the shined bright even when the most damn tried to dim your light. there you stood, headstrong. his very own star, a gift from the gods above.
his very own star, you were his world. and he was your solar system.
two pieces made for eachâother, destined to fall.
#theodore nott x reader#theo nott x reader#theo nott#theo nott x you#theo nott x y/n#harry potter x reader#theodore nott#theodore nott x you#theodore nott x y/n#theodore x ravenclaw!reader#theodore nott drabble#theodore nott blurb
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âLewis, Next Doorâ~ pt 1 Lewis Hamilton x Reader
Warning: age gap, alcohol?
Summary: Coming home from university, Y/N expects a quiet reunion with familyâuntil she finds herself face-to-face with the enigmatic Lewis Hamilton, her dadâs famous neighbor and friend. What starts as a dull evening soon turns unexpectedly electric when Lewis offers more than just small talk.
I hadnât been home all semester. Between studying, late-night group projects, and the occasional breakdown, the past few months at uni had been⊠a lot. Iâd pushed through, and even though Iâd missed my parents, there was something about finishing this term that made me feel a little invincible. I was finally here, though, bags slung over my shoulder as I hugged my mom in the doorway and let my dad ruffle my hair in that way he always did.
Home sweet home.
After the greetings and settling in, I noticed someone else was around. Our neighbor, Lewis Hamilton, was back too. Usually, he was off racing, so it was a rare sight. I wasnât someone who followed F1 religiously, but I knew Lewis was a big dealâand the whole âdadâs friendâ thing only made it more surreal. The few times weâd run into each other, Iâd been struck by how effortlessly confident he was. Attractive? Absolutely. Intimidating? Without a doubt. But, honestly, Iâd never thought much beyond that. He was just Lewis, the neighbor.
That night, my dad was throwing a big party to celebrate his latest product launch. Fancy guests, fancy decorations, fancy everythingâthe whole nine yards. Iâd barely unpacked, and here I was, getting ready to play dress-up and smile politely for a parade of strangers. My friends were out clubbing tonight, living it up, and I couldnât help but feel a pang of envy. But I loved my dad, so here I was, hair styled, makeup on point, feeling like Iâd stepped into someone elseâs life for the night.
As the party got into full swing, I did my best to stay interested, though I kept glancing at my phone, imagining my friends dancing somewhere with loud music and neon lights. Instead, I was here, weaving through clusters of my dadâs colleagues. He was chatting with a group of important-looking men, so I took my chance and approached him, feeling like a little kid again as I asked, âCan I please just have one drink?â
He shot me a disapproving look. âNo. You know the answer.â
âFine,â I muttered, trying not to let my frustration show. I wandered around a bit, catching snippets of adult conversation that were all about business deals and tax write-offs. Glamorous.
Finally, I spotted a lonely champagne glass on a table. I glanced around, and with a little thrill of rebellion, I picked it up, taking a sip. It was cold and crisp, and even though Iâd never been a huge fan of champagne, it felt like a tiny slice of freedom. A few more sips, and I was actually starting to relax.
Thatâs when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned, and there he wasâLewis, giving me a knowing smile.
âI see you like my drink?â he teased, eyes glinting with amusement.
My stomach dropped. Oh god, Iâd taken his champagne? âOh my god. Iâm so sorry⊠I didnât know⊠I can get you a new one if you want, I justââ
He chuckled, shaking his head. His laugh was low and warm, and something about it made me relax, just a bit. âNah, Iâm messing with you. Itâs fine. I donât even really drink anyways.â He grinned, flashing a glimpse of a gold grill that made him look both mischievous and effortless, a vibe that seemed distinctly Lewis.
I managed a shy nod, suddenly unsure of what to do with my hands. âOh⊠good. Thanks.â I couldnât believe I was so nervous. But he just kept looking at me, his gaze both curious and relaxed.
He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. âYou bored? Iâm so bored. No offense to your dad, of course.â
I let out a laugh, surprised at how blunt he was. âItâs boring,â I admitted, feeling a little guilty, but somehow knowing he understood. He had this whole wild, glamorous life, and a party like this was probably as dull as watching paint dry for him.
âSo, what? Youâre back from uni, huh? Thatâs crazy. I remember when you were like, ten,â he says, a teasing smile playing on his lips.
I feel my cheeks heat up with a pang of embarrassment. Here I was, feeling all cool and grown up, and he still saw me as a kid. Great.
âYep,â I reply, trying to keep my tone light but failing to hide the faint annoyance.
âWell, youâre better than me,â he shrugs. âI never finished school.â I glance at him, surprised heâs trying to keep this conversation going. Usually, we barely exchanged two words, and now, here we were, alone, talking like⊠friends? Something more? I didnât know.
âWell⊠yeah, but youâre a millionaire,â I say, trying to sound casual, though thereâs a little hint of playfulness in my voice. Iâm not exactly flirting, but maybe a little. Just testing the waters.
He raises an eyebrow, smiling at me but seeming almost uncomfortable at the mention of his money. He shrugs again. âYouâre not exactly struggling either,â he teases back.
Was⊠that a flirt? Or was I just imagining it? Itâs just the way he said it, the way his gaze lingers a moment longer than it should. My pulse quickens, but I try to play it cool.
âNo⊠not exactly,â I say, catching his hint and matching his tone. I glance around, making a point about how dull this party is. âJust right now.â
He chuckles, and thereâs a mischievous glint in his eyes. âMaybe next time, you come to one of my parties,â he says. It sounds more like a command than an invitation, like heâs decided Iâll be there.
I nod softly, trying to hide the thrill in my expression. Heâs really inviting me? He seems amused, almost as if my reaction is endearing.
âYeah, maybe,â I say with a slight shrug, finishing off the champagne. I feel his eyes on me, and when I look up, heâs studying me, like heâs considering something.
Then he breaks into a grin. âI could give you my number,â he says, casual but direct.
I raise an eyebrow, trying to mask the excitement bubbling up. âOh?â
âSo you can tell me next time youâre bored,â he adds, giving me a cheeky wink.
I feel my cheeks flush as I pull out my phone. He takes it from me, putting his number in. My hands are shaking just a bit when he hands it back.
âThere,â he says with that familiar grin. âNow youâll be set.â
âCool. Thanks,â I say, somehow managing to keep my voice steady. Inside, though, I feel my heart racing.
He glances back at the party, then back at me, giving me one last wink. âI should probably go talk to your dad. See you around, Y/N.â
And then heâs gone, leaving me standing there, still holding the empty champagne glass, my mind spinning. His number. His number. A part of me feels like Iâm floating.
âââââââââââ
Oo La La đ
Lmk of you like?!!??
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#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 x you#lewis hamilton#lewis hamilton x reader#lewis hamilton x you#lewis hamilton fic#age g@p
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Yeah the comparison to the queer community was extremely helpful. Since I'm a POC, I personally use an analogy under that light. Vi reminds me of a person of color who tries to assimilate into white society whatever means necessary just so they themselves can feel validated by white people (this never ends up working in their favor. They always end up chasing validation that they're really never getting). She also gives me "I only date white people, they make me closer to whiteness" vibes, as well as "I'm not (insert ethnicity), I'm (insert nationality)."
Like babe just be true to who you are. Let go of all the nastiness you've learned and come back to who you truly are. It's not a good look, you look stupid, and you're annoying everyone around you INCLUDING those are trying to impress.
And man the more I think about this the more realizations I make. Silco was right about what he said about vi. "Everyone betrays us: Vander, HER- they will never understand. It's only us." Yes he was saying it just to diss her but he also recognized the truth in it. Which is so astounding because he's only been with Vi for a few moments throughout the whole show, and he's already been able to read her like an open book and predict her future actions.
Even though she never actually did betray Jinx he knows she's going to betray her in the future because her and Jinx have DRASTICALLY different viewpoints of zaun and what it means to be a Zaunite. Vi has the inferiority complex that she got from the bridge and never let go off. Jinx was raised by a radical politician/business man who ALWAYS emphasized the importance of what he was fighting for and the rights zaun. This is something that's been so embedded into Jinx even though she herself does not actually care about design or the plight to freedom.
Jinx and Silco are truly the only people who understand the nature of zaun. They've both lived it they both embody it and it's been taught to jinx since an early age/something silco learned as a child. Silco and jinx are both the two biggest characters that actually accept change in the show, where most of the other characters reject it (vi being a big offender of this.
To me piltover is representative of control and zaun is representative of chaos. Change is nature and nature is chaos with balance (most of the time). Jinx is very chaotic where Vi is mostly very controlled.
ALSO, separate thought: if we're comparing vi to Viktor and we look over at Jayce and Caitlyn, I'd argue they're very different. They both have prejudice just by being pilties but the difference is that Caitlyn feeds into Vi's insecurities and her inferiority complex. Her and vi are basically shaking hands when it comes to being prejudiced against zaun. Not so much with jayce and Viktor. Both of them uplift each other. To Jayce, Viktor's achievements are extraordinary due to the nature of the achievements, NOT because of the nature of who those achievements were made by. This can be very encouraging and damaging at the same time, because we see that because Jayce doesn't really recognize Viktor as being a Zaunite, it ends up warping his view and it leads to tension in their relationship. I also think it's important to recognize that Jayce tries to learn from his mistakes. He apologizes to Viktor, he tries to broker peace between zaun and piltover, we see him working with Ekko, trying to solve a problem that negatively impacts zaun that he himself started. Overall their relationship is very positive where the girls' relationship is very negative because they're both feeding into each other's negativity. Caitlyn never really apologizes for her prejudice and Vi never really makes her.
Both Caitlyn and Jayce don't really see their partner's nationality. The difference is that Caitlyn sees Vi as an exception, she knows shes a Zaunite but she's "one of the good ones" and Jayce just does not care that Viktor is from zaun (this can be seen as both positive and Negative).
The second the illusion shatters of Vi not being like every other Zaunite, Caitlyn tosses her aside like she was nothing. Jayce doesn't see Viktor as an exception, I think he deadass just forgets that he's from zaun (and can we blame him Viktor has been living in piltover for years and dressing and acting like a piltie for years. It's assumed that him going to visit singed is the first time he went back in a long time, perhaps even since he left. Vi makes it very clear that she's undercity, it is her identity ((that complex again)). Viktor being undercity is only PART of his identity, it is not entirely who he is. Another reason why he doesn't really present himself as undercity is because he's assumedly spent more time in piltover than he has his home.)
This has been spinning around in my head since I watched season 2 arc 1, and I can't refrain from putting it down to post anymore.
In season 1, Jayce and Viktor get into a fight when Viktor evades the blockade to go speak to Singed in Zaun. During their fight, Jayce snaps at Viktor that he didn't know that Viktor's friend was from the undercity, and when Viktor asks why that matters, Jayce says the above: [people from the undercity] are dangerous (earlier he had also said, "there are people down there who seem hell-bent on destroying us!"). That's when Viktor grows cold, reminding Jayce that he is from the undercity, and even after Jayce apologizes, Viktor knocks his hand away, choosing to stand up on his own.
In season 2, chembarons hired by Ambessa (though no one knows that at the time) attack the memorial for the dead council members. In the aftermath, Caitlyn calls them animals. Notably, Vi shows no reaction at all to this; she doesn't so much as flinch at Caitlyn's word choice. Instead, while she does downplay what happened to an extent ("they wanted the spectacle, they're trying to scare you"), what's notable is that she separates herself from the people of Zaun. This is especially notable when she tells Caitlyn to call off the invasion, because of the risk it poses for those not from Zaun:
"Down there, you'll be on their terms."
Viktor seems to have pride in the fact that he is from Zaun. He has love for his home. As difficult as life was there, as much as the pollution led to his illness and disability, he has no shame that he's from Zaun and he still sees value and has love for the people there. This is why, when Jayce writes the Zaunites off as "dangerous", Viktor grows cold. He is no different from them, in his mind; if they're dangerous, then so is he.
Vi is . . . different.
In season 1 arc 1, Vi expresses to Vander that she has bought into and believes that those in Piltover are more than those in Zaun:
Now, here, Vi is still grouping herself in with the rest of Zaun. But there is a level of self-hatred (and hatred for one's home) that we don't see in Viktor. Viktor doesn't see himself as lesser than those in Piltover. He doesn't see the Zaunites as lesser than those in Piltover. Vi, however, does. She states this as if it is a fact. And while she loved her family, and has parts of Zaun that she likes (e.g. Jericho's food), it's worth noting that at the end of season 1 episode 1, she isn't telling Powder that they'll liberate Zaun, or fight for Zaun, or anything like that. Instead?
"This city's gonna respect us." This city. Not our city. Here is the first moment we see in which Vi puts some separation between herself and the rest of Zaun. She wants to make them respect her (and Powder). Even if she's less than those in Piltover, she still sees an opportunity for herself to be above those in Zaun.
All of this is to say that, when she has no reaction to Caitlyn calling Zaunites "animals", when she refers to them as "they," when she refers to Zaun as "their terms" . . . ultimately, it isn't too surprising. Vi represents a type of person who does exist in marginalized groups: the self-hating type, who hate others in their group for "drawing aggression" or "negative attention."
Think about queer people, for instance, who hate those who are flamboyant or open about who they are and who they love. The ones who think, "If we just assimilate more, be less of a bother, be less obnoxious, then the queerphobes will accept us." Obviously, other queer people find this type of person extremely frustrating, sometimes even infuriating, because we know that it doesn't matter what we do or how we act; bigots will never accept us.
But what we should understand, and extend compassion for, is that self-hating marginalized people are that way because it's a defense mechanism -- a survival mechanism, really. They can't square why bigots hate them, so they reach for any kind of explanation they can find, even if that explanation ultimately blames others in their own group and does more harm than good. Not to mention that hating yourself for who you are is often a result of long-term, systemic abuse -- the exact same kind of abuse that comes from living under an oppressive regime that murdered your parents and will assault you at any given opportunity, even for something as petty as your little sister miming shooting them with finger guns.
Vi says that she, "grew up knowing [she] was less than them." This is extraordinarily damaging to the psyche, and Vi's self-hatred -- and the extension of that hatred toward Zaun, not wanting to save them but wanting to make them respect her -- is a trauma response to that. One that Viktor, obviously, doesn't share (and neither does Ekko, or Jinx) -- but everyone reacts to trauma differently.
The point is, we saw shades of this already in Vi's childhood; her statement that she's less than topsiders, but that she wants those in the undercity to respect her. So when Caitlyn calls the Zaunites animals, Vi doesn't flinch. She agrees. And she speaks of them as separate from her, because Caitlyn has already designated her as one of the good ones (reinforced to her by what Maddie told her Caitlyn said right before the memorial), and because, well, those who attacked the memorial did do something horrible. And maybe if they wouldn't do that, and maybe if Jinx hadn't blown up the council building -- maybe if they were better behaved -- then the enforcers wouldn't have to invade and do what they were about to do, now would they? Those in Zaun -- or at least those in Zaun who decided to strike against Piltover -- brought it on themselves, so Vi isn't with them. She's with Caitlyn, and is okay with referring to them as animals.
It's interesting to think about.
#she did all that sucking up to Caitlyn and she STILL rejected her#wow i said a lot! thoughts?#mic does analysis
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the finish line part 4
and final - part 1 part 2 part 3
summary: you are the girlfriend of Lando Norris, Max Verstappen's rival with whom the tension between the two is undeniable.
warnings: nothing
word counter: 4264
author's note: english is not my first language
tags: @a-beaverhausen @maluzets55
The last few days of vacation had been anything but peaceful. It wasn't just Max's attention that weighed on you, but also the curious glances of others. Every time you went out, whether alone or in company, you felt like everyone was watching you, as if they suspected something beyond what was evident. Although you tried to remain indifferent, the pressure was beginning to affect you.
Max, for his part, seemed to handle everything with the same confidence with which he drove on the track. However, not even he could escape the public eye. When the vacation finally ended and the drivers returned to their routines, the questions at the press conferences began to take on a more personal tone. Instead of focusing solely on his recent championship, the journalists wanted to know more about his life off the track.
"Max, after your victory, you were seen celebrating intensely. Can you tell us more about that?" asked one of the reporters with an insinuating smile.
Max, sitting with his usual confident expression, just raised an eyebrow. âI celebrated like any champion would. It was a special moment for me and my team. Nothing out of the ordinary.â
The answer was direct, but not enough to divert attention. Another journalist intervened, this time with an even more incisive tone.
âThere has been a lot of talk about a certain company during those celebrations. Any statement on that?â
Max smiled, although his eyes showed a glint of irritation. âMy private life is just that: private. Iâm here to talk about racing, not rumors.â
While Max dealt with the media pressure, you faced your own battles. Social media had become a minefield. Comments about you began to appear, some insinuating that you were too close to Max, others criticizing you for not always being by Landoâs side at the most important moments. There were those who said you were seeking attention, that you liked drama. The words hurt more than you wanted to admit. You tried to ignore them, but it was hard when every time you opened your phone there was something new waiting for you.
Lando, oddly enough, seemed to enjoy it all from a distance. Even though he had been your boyfriend for so long, his attitude was almost indifferent.
âWhat did you expect?â he said to you one night while you were talking on the phone because he had called you. âYouâre in the public eye now. This is what happens. You should get used to it.â
His tone was so carefree that it infuriated you. Get used to it? To people questioning your loyalty, your feelings? While you dealt with the pressure, he seemed to enjoy his freedom, attending events and meetings without worrying about what they said about him.
âYou know what, Lando? It would be easier if you at least seemed to care a little because you caused all of this,â you finally blurted out, your voice thick with frustration.
âI do,â he replied with a sigh. âBut I also know that you canât control what people say.â
The conversation ended, but it left a bitter taste in your mouth.
Max, on the other hand, seemed ever-present, even if it was silent. You knew that if you texted him, he would respond immediately. But after everything that had happened, you resisted.
One afternoon, though, after a particularly rough day on social media, your phone buzzed with a message from him.
âHow are you? Iâve seen whatâs going on online. Donât let it get to you. People always have something to say.â
His message was simple, but comforting. For a moment, you felt like you werenât alone in all of this, that someone actually understood what you were going through.
The days followed, each bringing their own set of challenges. You tried to focus on your own things, but it was impossible to completely escape the whirlwind that had formed around you.
The weight of exposure began to become more than just an inconvenience; it felt like a constant burden you couldnât let go of. Every time you opened your phone, every notification, every comment, every message seemed to add a new layer of self-doubt and anxiety. No matter how hard you tried to focus on your own life, your own projects, the shadow of social media and criticism was still there, haunting you.
One night, as you sat on the bed in your hotel room in Spain, you stared at your reflection in the dead screen of your phone. How had you gotten to this point? What had once been excitingâstanding next to one of Formula 1âs most promising driversânow felt like endless exposure to judgment and misunderstanding. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to breathe deeply, but even the air felt heavy.
You and Lando had officially broken up a few weeks ago. It had been an inevitable breakup, a step you both knew you had to take. There were no big arguments, no shouting, just a mutual recognition that things were no longer the same. Lando, for his part, seemed to have moved on without looking back. His social media showed photos of him at events, smiling with friends, enjoying his uncomplicated life. And you... you felt trapped in limbo.
Your relationship with Max, on the other hand, was in uncertain territory. There were no clear words, no labels that could define what you had, but there was something palpable between you both. Every message from him, every look, every conversation was imbued with a latent tension, a connection that seemed to go beyond the physical. You were on the verge of something, and you both knew it.
Your phone vibrated on the nightstand, breaking the silence of the room. You took it without looking, half expecting another critical message or a sensational article, but seeing Max's name on the screen, something in your chest momentarily eased.
Max: "Are you okay? I saw Lando uploaded something new, but he didn't mention anything about you. Do you need to talk?"
For a moment, you stared at the message. How did he always know when you were at your limit? You didn't know if it made you happy or upset. With shaking fingers, you started to type a reply, but you deleted the words before sending them. You didn't want to seem weak, even though deep down you knew Max was probably the only person at the moment who could understand what you were going through.
Minutes later, another message came through.
Max: "I'm here if you need to vent. You don't have to carry it all alone."
That simple statement broke down your defenses. You felt tears build up in your eyes, but you refused to let them out. You had endured so much, trying to be strong, but the emotional exhaustion was too much. You finally wrote:
You: âI donât know if I can do this anymore, Max. It all feels too much⊠The pressure, the comments, the exposure. Sometimes I feel like Iâm falling apart.â
Maxâs response was not long in coming.
Max: âYou donât have to prove anything to anyone. Youâre stronger than you think, but I understand that this is all a lot. I want to see you. Let me help you carry this.â
Your heart was pounding as you read his words. There was something about his way of saying things that always managed to calm the storm inside you. The thought of seeing him, of being able to talk face to face, felt like a necessary balm. But there was also fear. Fear of what it would mean to take that step, to cross a line that already seemed so tenuous.
After a long silence, you finally wrote:
You: âIâm not ready for everything that comes with this, Max. But I want to see you too."
A little while later, you received a call. It was him. You hesitated for a moment before answering, but finally swiped your finger across the screen.
"I knew you would answer," Max said in his calm, confident tone. "I'm going to Spain this weekend. Because of you."
"Max, I don't know if that's a good idea," you whispered, though your voice betrayed your true feelings.
âIt is,â he replied without hesitation. âBecause this isnât just pressure or exposure. Itâs about us, about who we are when no one else is looking.â
His words resonated with you. Maybe you didnât have to face it all alone after all.
The weekend came quicker than you expected. Max had kept his word and was in Spain, ready to see you. The first time you met him was in the lobby of your hotel. He was dressed in his usual laid-back style: a simple t-shirt and jeans, but there was something about his presence that always managed to capture your full attention.
When his blue eyes met yours, the air seemed to stand still for a moment. Max walked toward you with a determined stride, without any hesitation. Before you could say anything, he wrapped you in a firm hug, one that offered not only comfort, but also a silent promise: You are not alone.
âIâm here,â he said, his voice deep but gentle. âAnd Iâm not going anywhere.â
You stayed in his arms for what seemed like an eternity. All the weight you had been carrying, all the pressure, slowly began to fade away. When you finally pulled away, Max looked at you with an intensity that made you feel seen, completely.
âMaxâŠâ you began, but he shook his head before you could continue.
âI donât want you to worry anymore about what people say. We donât owe them anything,â he stated, his tone firm. âLet me carry some of this burden with you. I wonât let outside pressure get to us, I wonât let this tear us apart.â
The determination in his voice made you feel a strange mix of relief and apprehension. You had been so used to dealing with everything alone that the idea of ââallowing someone else to carry some of your worries seemed almost foreign to you. But Max wasnât just anyone. There was something about the way he spoke, the way he was present, that gave you a security you didnât even know you needed.
âWhat if we canât handle it?â You asked, letting out one of your biggest insecurities.
Max took your hands, his fingers intertwining with yours. âWe can,â he replied with unwavering conviction. âDo you know how many times Iâve been told I couldnât accomplish something? Every time Iâve gotten in the car, Iâve had to prove them wrong. This is no different. Weâre no different.â
His words stayed with you, offering a hope you hadnât allowed to blossom until now. The idea of ââfacing all of this with him, together, suddenly didnât seem so impossible.
For the rest of the day, Max remained by your side. Every time you saw a phone being raised to take a photo or heard a murmur as you passed, Max squeezed your hand lightly, as if reminding you that it didnât matter what the world thought. He was there, with you.
That night, as you both sat in your room, Max leaned back on the couch, watching you with a calm smile.
"You know, as much as I love winning championships, being here with you feels like a different victory," he said, his tone lighter now.
âI didnât know you had such a romantic side,â you joked, trying to lighten the tension in your chest.
âOnly for you,â he replied, his gaze sincere. âAnd if you let me, Iâll prove it to you every day.â
You couldnât help but smile. For the first time in weeks, you felt safe.
Days had turned into weeks, and your relationship with Max seemed to grow deeper with every moment shared. He was your refuge, your calm in the midst of the storm that continued to rage on social media and in the media. Yet as hard as you tried to stay strong, the persistent criticism was beginning to wear you down. Every article speculating about your life, every cruel comment you unintentionally encountered, made you feel more vulnerable.
The stress was building up. There were nights when you could barely sleep, your mind stuck in an endless cycle of questions and doubts. Was it all worth it? Could you continue to face constant scrutiny? Even though Max was doing his best to reassure you that you were in this together, a part of you was starting to wonder if it would be better for both of you if you stepped away.
One night, after a long day where Max had had multiple media engagements, you found yourself alone in the hotel room in Bahrain where you had flown to join him. The city lights shone through the windows, but they offered no comfort. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you stared at your phone. Notifications kept coming in: messages, social media mentions, articles with sensational headlines.
You sighed and turned off the screen, setting the phone aside. You couldnât go on like this.
When Max returned, the first thing he noticed was your expression. He immediately came over, sitting next to you. âWhatâs wrong?â he asked, his voice laced with concern.
You looked up at him, and in that moment, the words began to come out unfiltered. âI donât know if I can go through with this, Max. The pressure, the media, the comments⊠It feels like Iâm losing control of my life.â
He frowned, his eyes reflecting both understanding and frustration. âI knew this was hard for you, but you donât have to face it alone. Iâm here, and you know that.â
âI know, Max,â you replied, a lump in your throat. âBut I canât help but feel like by being with you, Iâm only making things worse. I donât want to be a burden on you, or your career.â
Max took your hands, his grip firm but comforting. âYouâll never be a burden on me. And if you think walking away will solve anything, youâre wrong. People will always talk, no matter what we do.â
âWhat if I decide to walk away?â you asked quietly, fearing his reaction.
Max took a deep breath, processing your words. âIf thatâs what you need to feel better, Iâll respect that,â he finally said, though his voice betrayed his internal struggle. âBut I want you to know that Iâd rather face this hell with you, than be without you.â
His words brought tears to your eyes. He always found a way to break down your defenses. But the doubt was still there, fueled by fear and insecurity.
That night, as Max slept beside you, you lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The decision to walk away wasnât easy, but perhaps it was the only thing that could bring you some peace. Could you give up what you had to protect yourself? Or could you find a way to endure together, like he wished?
The night progressed slowly and silently. Even though Max slept beside you, you lay awake, caught in a whirlwind of thoughts. The dim glow of the city dimly illuminated the room, but offered no comfort. You turned slightly, watching Max's relaxed face as he slept. There was something almost innocent about his expression, a calmness that contrasted with the storm inside you.
You tried to close your eyes, but the weight of your doubts was still present. You didn't know how much time passed before you felt a slight movement beside you. Opening your eyes, you realized that Max was also awake now. His blue eyes, still heavy with sleep, looked at you with a mix of concern and tenderness.
"Can't sleep?" he asked quietly, his tone laden with a care that only he could offer at this hour of the morning.
You shook your head, unable to find the words. Max sat up slightly, propping himself up on one elbow as he watched you closely.
"What's going on in that head of yours?" he insisted, gently caressing your cheek with the back of his hand.
You took a deep breath, trying to contain the flood of emotions. But his eyes kept searching you, offering a reassurance that only he could provide. Finally, you decided to speak up.
âMax, I donât know if Iâm cut out for this,â you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. âThis whole world, the constant attention. And the last thing I want is for it to affect you, too.â
Max remained silent for a moment, processing your words. Then, he sat up fully, turning to face you.
âYou know something?â he began, his tone firmer now. âEver since I started in this sport, Iâve always been surrounded by people who admire me for what I do on the track. People who celebrate my victories and forget about me as soon as the season is over. But you⊠youâre different.â
You were surprised by the intensity of his words, and he continued before you could respond.
"You're the only person who truly sees me, beyond the driver, beyond the titles and the races. With you, I can be myself. I don't have to prove anything, I don't have to win to feel like I'm worth something. And that, to me, is everything."
Your heart skipped a beat, and Max moved a little closer, taking your hands in his.
"Without you," he said with an honesty that took your breath away, "this all becomes meaningless. Every time I cross the finish line, every trophy I lift, even before you were with me, before Lando stole you from me... it wouldn't mean anything if you weren't there for me."
The tears you'd been holding back began to fall silently, but Max didn't look away. Instead, he squeezed your hands tighter, as if to assure you that he wasn't going to let you go.
"I need you by my side," he confessed. âNot just because of what we share, but because you are my balance. You are the person who reminds me why I do what I do, and who I really am when everything else shuts down.â
You stayed silent, letting his words sink in. You had underestimated how important you were to him, how much you meant beyond the insecurities and doubts that plagued you. Seeing him like this, so vulnerable and honest, made you realize something: you werenât alone in this. It wasnât just your struggle; it was both of ours.
âMaxâŠâ you began, your voice shaking slightly. âI need you too. But this is all so hard. I donât want the pressure to destroy us.â
âIt wonât,â he replied determinedly. âTogether we are stronger. It doesnât matter what people say, what they think. The only thing that matters is what you and I feel. And I feel like we can handle this. If youâre willing to try, Iâm not going to let anything or anyone tear us apart.â
You nodded, feeling a mix of relief and hope. Max pulled you close to him, wrapping you in a warm, protective embrace. You stayed like that for a long moment, finding comfort in each other's closeness.
The next day was not really just any other day, after weeks of preparation and nerves, the first race of the year was finally here. Nerves ran through the paddock, and the usual bustle of competition filled the air, but there was something different this time. You had come, as always, to support Max, but this time you would do so in an even more visible way, closer to him than ever.
Max, with his relaxed but focused attitude, was ready to prove that, despite the rumors and criticism, nothing could stop him. He had told you about how he wanted to start the season with a win, not just for himself, but also to show the world that he was at his best, that nothing the media said or speculated could tarnish his success. He looked at you before getting into the car, his eyes shining with fierce determination, but also with a special warmth just for you.
The race was action-packed, as you would expect. Max stuck to his strategy, fighting for every position with that mix of precision and bravery that characterized him. Every lap was a mix of excitement and anxiety, not just for him, but for you, who were watching from the pits. You knew how much this victory meant to him, and as you watched him outpace each opponent, the tension took hold of you.
Finally, the checkered flag fell, and Max crossed the finish line in first place. The sound of the engine fading as he celebrated the victory made your heart skip a beat. As soon as the race was over, all eyes turned to him: the champion, the favorite, the icon.
You ran to him as soon as you could see him, where you found him surrounded by his team. You couldnât help but smile in happiness for him, but also at the feeling that, in that moment, everything that had happened between you had come to this point, to this victory. When Max saw you in the crowd, his face lit up. There were no words needed; he just ran to you, wrapping you in a hug so tight you almost felt like he was lifting you off the ground.
After the anthems and champagne, trophy in hand, Max stepped up to the camera for an interview that was, of course, going to be broadcast live. What happened next surprised everyone. Instead of going on with the typical answers about the race, Max took a moment, with a smile full of pride, to talk about you.
"I want to dedicate this win to someone very special," he began, his words laden with sincerity. "To my amazing partner, who has been with me through the toughest times, when I needed it the most. I want everyone to know that without her, this win wouldn't have the same meaning. She is my support, my strength, and my love."
Your heart was pounding, but what touched you the most was his next statement.
âSheâs the person who makes me feel the happiest Iâve ever been, and I canât imagine my life without her. My love, youâre the love of my life.â
The cameras focused on your face, and even though a torrent of emotions washed over you, you couldnât help but smile shyly, a little embarrassed by the sudden attention, but deeply grateful for his very public support. Max hadnât just won a race; heâd done something much bigger: heâd opened his heart in front of millions of people.
The moment became more intense when the crowd applauded, and some began to cheer for you as well. Even though you knew that not all of Maxâs fans would be happy with his statement, something in the air had changed. The media had tried to paint you in many ways, but in that instant, it didnât matter. Maxâs victory, the way he had publicly defended you, was a clear message: you were together, no matter what anyone said.
As the days passed, something unexpected happened. Amidst the criticism and speculation, you began to notice a change. The comments started to become kinder. At first, some of Max's most loyal followers were still hesitant, but as time went by, their support for you began to grow. Photos of the two of you, the photos that Max shared of you, in which you looked so happy and peaceful together, began to appear on fans' profiles, and words of support began to outweigh the criticism.
You were surprised to see how many people were willing to embrace your relationship, to understand that behind the image of a successful driver, there was a real person, someone who also had the right to be happy and to love. Some of the fans, even the most skeptical, began to comment positively on the posts, talking about how beautiful you looked together, how genuine your relationship was.
One night, after a race, while you were sharing a quiet moment with Max, you received a message from one of Max's most loyal followers. They said something simple but profound: âWe are glad to see you so happy with Max. You deserve all the good that is to come.â
That night, as you went to bed, Max came to you, smiling with that familiar calm, and whispered in your ear: âSee? The rumors donât matter anymore. What really matters is what we have built together.â
And finally, after so much effort, so much sacrifice, you knew that you were both ready to face the future, not just as a couple, but as an unstoppable team. Together. And perhaps in the future, as a family.
#fanfic#oneshot#imagine#x reader#f1 fanfic#max verstappen#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen x yn#max verstappen x you#max verstappen fanfic#f1 x you#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1#lando norris x you#lando norris x reader
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The tour was going better than even Josephine could have imagined. Despite the melodramatic resignation with which Antoine had gotten in the car the morning they had left Strangerville, or the brooding quiet he adopted on their drives between performances, he was a different person on stage.Â
So much so that when Jo watched him perform she knew that this was where he was always meant to be, even if he had tried to pretend otherwise. After all, she had been the one who had been there from the first moment he had ever sat in front of a piano, advocating for him first at the club with their mother and then with men all over town. She had been the one who had believed in him, even when he hadnât believed in himself.
And for whatever cowboy fantasy he may have been living in Strangerville, seeing him like this was like watching him come alive all over again - until finally, it was as though the best of the artist he had been under the heavy weight of the Storyville air had been set free, colliding and enmeshing with some idea of himself he had found on the open mesas.
With every cheer and every show it grew stronger; and even as he might have grown more homesick or quiet with her, something else was growing in him. Away from the stage, she would catch him at all hours of the day and night, huddled with his guitar and clutching a pen, working quietly but furiously on compositions and lyrics.
It didnât seem to matter how shabby their accommodations were, or that each bed and each view was different but woefully the same as the one before. He only had himself and his guitar, and whether that was enough or just a distraction from the fact that it would never be, she was unable or unwilling to discern.
As the weeks wore on, they fell into a sort of rhythm, one governed by constant movements and brief moments of respite. Antoine would wake when Jo turned on the lights only to know without words that they would have to load up the car to get to their next stop, check in another hotel, unload their bags yet again, play another show, and end up back in the same room by evening. Day after day, the same routine was governed by blurred vistas from a car window, tinged with movement and restlessness, just like Jo's soul had always been.
So it was in those brief moments of stillness that Antoine would just simply sit and write, allowing whatever stained carpet he was sitting on to become home for just a moment. Only Jo could still see it even when she was meant to rest - the freshly paved black asphalt shivering in the ever present sun, stretching out all the way to the Pacific Ocean. It was impossible to ignore, not when she knew what was waiting for her just outside.
So she would tell Antoine that she would be home soon, a quick nod telling her that he had barely heard her. Moments later, she had left the hotel in her rearview mirror. Then, without fail, the feeling of freedom rushed over her as the wind roared past her ears and deafened her to every noise swirling around her, even those coming from inside her own head. She never wanted to stop the car once it got going, the asphalt burning hot under the incessant movement of the tires and the charged touch of the accelerator as it gave way under her heel, finally meeting the metal below as the car groaned under her.
But eventually, begrudgingly, she would realize that she had gone too far to be back home by sunrise, or to know where the nearest gas station was, so she would turn around back to the hotel that she called home for only a few nights at a time.
Sometimes when she returned, he would be asleep, run ragged by the driving and shows that only made her more energized than she had ever been in her life. Other times he was still sitting exactly where she left him, guitar clutched in his hand and seemingly surprised that hours had gone by while she was away. Those nights it was like they had both caught the one another in a daydream, Joâs mind still racing as fast as the car had been and Antoineâs numbed to the outside world by the lyrics that flowed from it like whiskey.
Only when they met each other's eyes did they realize another day awaited them - one filled with the promise or dread of yet another faceless room and a cheering crowd. Then there was little left to do but sleep with the hope that you had the energy to face it.
When the sun broke through the curtains, it brought with it another drive, another hotel, and another show - another day of the movement that had carried them along like waves for weeks at a time. So Antoine would brush the sleep from his eyes, only half aware even as Jo clasped the pearls behind each ear. Then he would rustle up his papers, slow to fit each shirt back into his suitcase as though it shrank with each stop.
By the time they were back in Val's car, the wind took over for the silence of a long drive, grown more poignant by the fact that part of her knew that he didnât want to be there, and part of him saw that she would push them forward nonetheless.
Except at the end of every drive was yet another show, softening the tension between them with his lyrics that reinforced to her that this was where he was meant to be all along. He never faltered as he played, reminded that despite whatever had kept him awake the night before, this was always waiting for him. Every song and every note like an outlet for his pain, his feelings free to roam through him and escape from him like nothing else.
All their lives, Jo had watched him hide the words he had wanted to say, or the frustrations he felt. She was proud, and even more deeply, joyful that she had gotten him here. Finally, singing on a stage where people listened to him and appreciated him for the artist he was, even if it was in the corner of some dusty bar in the middle of some desert state. She was smart enough to see that if he just allowed it for himself, this was only the beginning. So when Hosa caught up to them on the last leg of their tour and offered her not one but two more tours, she didnât even hesitate before saying yes.
#1935#sims 4 historical#ts4 historical#ts4 decades challenge#sims 4 decades challenge#the darlingtons#sims 4 legacy#ts4 legacy#sims 4 story#1930s#Antoine Duplanchier#Josephine Duplanchier
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FREEDOM OF SPEECH
No Nut November - Day 10
NNN Masterlist...
-†When Matt sees you with someone else, he couldn't help but admit how he feels
It was obvious that tensions were high. Anyone could see that. After being friends with the triplets for so long, you felt like things couldnât change, yet you found yourselves proving that wrong. You saw the way he looked at you, only because you were looking at him too.Â
Everything, down to the way you acted and dressed revolved around him. You just couldnât help it. You wanted, no, needed him to notice you, to see you. Â
Yet after what felt like years, his behaviour didnât seem to change. You tried to convince yourself that he was just excellent at hiding his feelings towards you but if anything, they were on show.Â
âYeah, this is y/n! Sheâs my best friend, the one I told you about.â A shudder crept up your spine as he introduced you. It shouldnât have bothered you, but you just couldnât help it. Thatâs all you were to him, a best friend. You tried to be grateful, after all you were friends with the fucking Sturniolo triplets. And here you were, pitying yourself because you wanted more with one of them. Â
You just couldnât get over it, over him. How was it fair that he had total control over your mind. The little moments you used to fawn over just turned into self-deprecation. Any other girl you knew that had caught Mattâs eye wasnât like you. They were prettier and had mastered the art of make-up. Their hair was styled and flawless even after the hours of a party. It was just something you couldnât do.Â
Yet, his hand would still drop over your shoulder, rubbing your skin as you watching a film. Heâd insist you borrow his jacket when it got cold, goose bumps rising to your skin. A few of them ended up in your persona collection after he denied the return saying, âkeep it, they look better on you.â There had to be something, right?Â
Months of trying felt pointless, flirting fell flat and as far as you were concerned? Matt still thought of you the same. You werenât going to sit around anymore just pining over someone who obviously didnât feel the same. Â
So, when another guy stood in front of you, a hand stretched out as an invitation for a dance, how could you say no. Gawking at Matt wasnât going anywhere, and you didnât want to never endlessly pray that heâll pull you close. Why get your hopes up when an attractive man is stood in front of you now?Â
Although, when you placed your hand into his, Mattâs eyes were on you. He liked you, hell that man loved you. He didnât miss anything you handed out to him. His anxiety just stepped in front whenever he wanted to act upon it. No amount of talks with his brothers fixed that.Â
He wasnât dumb, he saw it burn in the manâs eyes. Lust. He only wanted a quick fuck, he wasnât a newcomer. Unbeknownst to him, you had spent your time staring at Matt rather than scanning the crowd. Â
He tried to ignore it, he really did. But as much as he shared the feeling, he hears your laugh through the group of people. He heard everything. The flaunting, the flirting, and the way you let yourself giggle at any small thing he did.Â
After about ten minutes of his eyes tracing where his hands met her body, heâd had enough. He couldnât believe it took him until you were in the arms of someone else to make him see just how much be didnât want you to be with anyone else.Â
Before either of you knew it, his hand was wrapped around your wrist, dragging you away from the man. Â
âHey! Matt?! Whatâs your problemâ He didnât listen, he only waited until you both were secluded.Â
âdonât go and dance around him, heâs just in it for a fuck.âÂ
âMaybe I wanted that.â You crossed your arms, pouting like a small child.Â
âAs if, you arenât that type of person.â As much as you wanted to admit it, it felt wrong. You were leaning into another part of yourself. It hurt both of you.Â
âOh really? As if you care about what I do.â Every sour thing came up your throat before you could stop it Â
âExcuse me? âHis tone changed significantly as he etched closer, his hands now crossed over his chest.Â
âYou havenât batted an eye at me in months.âÂ
âI have.â The more he spoke, the more be admitted things he wasnât proud of.Â
âHm. When then, name one time.â You wanted to believe him, but if you did. Could you bring yourself to trust him.Â
âLiterally every night since I realised, I love you.âÂ
Shit. Now he HAD fucked up.Â
@melliflws @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @bueckerrss @worldlxvlys @raysmayhem-72 @patscorner @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @luverboychris @jnkvivi @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @shorthairchris @colorthecosmos444 @anabethinking @zay-sturns @anyaa2s @emilyfaith2003 @jassturn @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @sturniolosiphone @ribread03
© ENDEREIES 2024
#â
Endereies NNN#©endereies#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#matt x reader#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo fluff#matt sturniolo angst#matt sturniolo smut#chris x reader#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturiolo fanfic#chris sturniolo fluff#chris sturniolo angst#chris sturniolo smut#x reader#sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo fluff#sturniolo hurt/comfort#sturniolo resolved angst#sturniolo smut#sturniolo triplets imagines#sturniolo x reader#endereies
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And then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like i love you.
part 4 of 12
Synopsis: New feelings emerge the annual obx bonfire, and maybe rafe makes sense sometimes?
Pairing: unrequited JJ x Reader, Eventual Rafe x Reader
masterlist
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The beach was alive with energy. Shadows danced across the sand as the bonfire crackled, its flames licking up into the night sky. Music pulsed from a speaker someone had dragged down, a beat that felt like the heartbeat of the entire crowd. It was packed, Kooks and Pogues alike coming together under the shared, unspoken Outer Banks tradition: that bonfires were for everyone. Tonight, social status was checked at the edge of the sand, and the air buzzed with freedom.
Y/N took it all in, smiling as she watched the chaos around her. To her left, Pope was pulling a face as he choked down a swig of the lukewarm beer theyâd snagged from an abandoned cooler, and on her right, Kiara was doubling over in laughter as JJ finished off the remains of a sloppy keg stand, his grin as wide as it was reckless.
âTwenty seconds! Thatâs a record!â Kiara declared, raising her cup as JJ landed, somewhat unsteadily, on his feet. He leaned on Pope, pretending to stagger for effect.
âTwenty-five seconds if you count style points,â JJ retorted, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. âAnd that was a world-class dismount.â
âWorld-class dismount?â Pope scoffed, though he couldnât hold back a grin. âThat was barely even a landing.â
Y/N couldnât help but laugh along, joining in with the rest of them. This was her crewâher people. Moments like this reminded her that these were more than just friends; they were family. They shared everything, from scraps to secrets, and it felt easy, right. Here, she didnât have to be anything but herself.
The group continued to cheer JJ on, tossing him mock praises while he bowed with exaggerated flair. Then he shot a challenging look over at Pope. âThink you can beat that, Pope? Or is Mr. Honour Student scared to take on the keg?â
Pope rolled his eyes, but Y/N could see the glint of competitiveness sparking behind his usual calm. âStep aside, amateurs,â he said, striding toward the keg. âPrepare to witness a true display of keg-standing grace.â
Kiara snorted. âYeah, youâll need all the grace you can get to beat JJâs âworld-class dismount.ââ
Y/N watched as Pope set himself up, bracing his hands on the keg while JJ and Kiara took hold of his legs. The group counted down as Pope lifted up, holding his own surprisingly well. JJ and Kiara kept the playful jeers coming, while Y/N joined in with cheers, laughing so hard her sides hurt. When Pope finally came down, he shook his head with mock disgust at the crowdâs over-the-top applause.
The group quickly settled into their usual rhythm, passing around drinks, teasing each other, and laughing so loudly they drew a few curious glances from the others around the bonfire. Kiara passed Y/N a drink, winking as if sharing a secret. Y/N took a sip, enjoying the taste of freedom mixed with the slight saltiness of the ocean breeze.
Then, as the night continued, something shifted. It was subtle at first, a glance, a small change in the atmosphere. Out of the corner of her eye, Y/N noticed a figure entering the firelight, carrying herself with an effortless confidence. Sarah Cameron, arriving with her own Kook crowd. She seemed to glide through the sand, her friends moving aside to let her through as if theyâd choreographed the whole thing.
Y/N watched her for a second, noticing how, even among the crowd, Sarah looked almost⊠untouchable. There was something magnetic about her, even if Y/N couldnât quite put her finger on what it was. She glanced around, curious if anyone else had noticed, and saw John B watching Sarah with a look that wasnât just casual curiosity. For a brief moment, he locked eyes with her as she passed, the kind of look that felt more like a question than a glance.
The thing was, John B hadnât looked away right away. And Sarah, too, held his gaze for a beat longer than necessary before giving him a small, unreadable smile and moving on.
Y/N felt a small flutter of curiosity, but she quickly brushed it aside. It was probably nothing; John B was just noticing Sarah, like everyone else was. If he was intrigued by her, that was no surpriseâeveryone seemed to be.
She turned her attention back to the group, pushing aside any thoughts of Sarah Cameron and the strange little moment sheâd witnessed. The Pogues were deep into some new joke, Pope recounting a mishap from a surf lesson heâd tried to give a tourist last summer, everyone laughing so hard they could hardly breathe.
It was all familiar, all part of their dynamic. But as Y/N looked around at themâJJ, leaning back with a confident grin; Kiara, always quick with a witty comeback; Pope, rolling his eyes good-naturedlyâshe felt a faint pang of something. A sense of being surrounded yet slightly apart. They were all laughing, all connected in a way she was part of but also⊠maybe not entirely. It was subtle, something she couldnât quite name, but it was there.
â
The bonfire crackled on, casting warm, flickering shadows over everyone as laughter and stories echoed into the night. Y/N stretched her legs out on the soft sand, her eyes dancing over her friends as they chatted and laughed around her. The atmosphere was alive, a tangle of music, firelight, and easygoing conversations. She could almost forget the weight that had been following her around lately, the quiet sense that something was off.
JJ was in his usual element, animatedly telling a story about some wild, yet exaggerated, run-in with a tourist and a local cop. His hands flew through the air, mimicking the copâs serious tone and his own escape from the situation. Everyone laughed, even Pope, who was the least likely to show much amusement.Â
âBet you didnât get off that easy, though!â Kiara teased, nudging JJ with her foot.
âI got off just fine, thank you,â JJ replied with a wink, his grin wide as he glanced over at the crowd. âAnd speaking of getting off, thereâs a cute tourist over there who might need a tour guide tonight.â He gave a sly smile, turning his head toward a group of vacationers by the food table.
John B. shot JJ a mock glare from the other side of the fire, his voice loud over the chatter. âWhat is it with you and tourists, man? At this point, Iâm just concerned for their safety.â
JJ laughed, throwing up his hands in defense. âIâm a professional. Trust me, I know exactly what Iâm doing.â
âYeah, right,â Pope chimed in, shaking his head as he passed around another beer. âJJ âTour Guideâ Maybank at it again. Should we be concerned for our reputation?â
Kiara rolled her eyes but smiled. âSome things never change.â
As the teasing continued, Y/N joined in, her laughter light and genuine, but underneath it, something else simmeredâa slight discomfort she couldn't quite shake. She watched JJ eye the tourist again, clearly sizing her up. It was nothing new, just JJ being... well, JJ. Heâd always been carefree, always found someone to flirt with, to connect with, even if it was for one night.Â
But something about it hit a little harder tonight.Â
Pope leaned in, his voice intentionally loud, nudging Y/Nâs shoulder. âHey, when are you gonna find someone to hook up with? Youâre, like, the only one here who hasnât.â
Y/N froze for a second, then forced a laugh. âIâm just⊠not in the mood for that stuff,â she said, not quite convincing herself. She could feel her friends' eyes on her, even as they all laughed it off.Â
âYeah, Y/N,â JJ added without missing a beat, his smile wide and easy. âWhat, too busy reading books to bother with that stuff?â The words were lighthearted, thrown out with a laugh, but they landed heavier than he realized.
The group chuckled, but Y/N felt a slight tension building in her chest. It was a joke, sure, but it was the second time tonight that someone had mentioned her "lack of experience." As if it defined her in their eyes.
Kiara, sensing the slight shift in Y/Nâs mood, leaned over and threw an arm around her. âYou know weâre just messing with you, right? Youâre one of usâdonât need anyone to complete you or whatever.â
But the words felt hollow, even though Y/N knew Kiara meant well. One of us. It wasnât exactly what she wanted to hear. Y/N had always felt like she was one of the groupâthe sidekick, the buddy. But she didn't want to be just the "one of the guys" forever. She wanted to be seen differently. She wanted someone to notice her for more than her place in the group.
âYeah, youâre our moral compass,â Pope added with a grin, raising his cup to her. âYou keep us all on the straight and narrow, Y/N.â
She managed a strained smile, raising her own drink in response. âWell, Iâll take that as a compliment⊠I think.â But the weight of their words, their easy camaraderie, left her feeling more like an outsider than ever.
But Y/N felt herself pulling further away, her smile fading just a little. The casual remarkâthat she was more like the friend who held everyone together, the one who didnât need anything in returnâonly reinforced the space between them. She wasnât the girl they saw in the same light as Kiara. She wasnât the one who could be flirted with, or kissed in the heat of the moment. She was the one who watched. Who held the drinks, who laughed at the jokes.
The conversation shifted again, and Y/N, trying to mask her discomfort, found herself zoning out. She stared at the fire, the flames dancing in a rhythm that felt almost mocking in its carefree energy.Â
In the midst of her thoughts, she caught John B.âs gaze across the fire. He looked over at her, offering a quick smile before turning to say something to JJ. His presenceâhis casual nature, his place in the groupâwas a sharp reminder that, no matter how much time they spent together, sheâd always be just a part of the background. He fit in effortlessly. He had a life outside the group, but when he was with them, he was fully there.
Y/N couldnât help but notice how John B. had looked at Sarah when she arrived. It was subtle, but it was there. A shared glance. And maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was just a casual look, but it stung all the same.
She quickly averted her eyes, trying to ignore the creeping feeling of being left behind. It wasnât jealousy. It wasnât that she wanted to be the one to catch John B.âs attention. It was the realization that, in this group, there were parts of her that no one truly saw.
And that thought settled over her like a cold wave.
JJâs voice broke through her thoughts, his casual tone making her even more aware of the gap she felt. âWell, Y/Nâs too good for that stuff anyway. Sheâs more about, like, keeping her nose in a book or something. Definitely not the party girl type.â
She froze, the teasing jab landing a little too close to home. She could feel all eyes on her for a moment longer than was comfortable. Their laughter, Kiaraâs reassuring arm around her shoulders, the lighthearted comments, all felt like they were circling around her, but not letting her in.
She needed air.
Standing quickly, Y/N excused herself, her voice tight. âIâll be right back.â
She walked toward the shore, the cool night air brushing against her skin, and with every step, she felt more like a stranger to the group she had spent so many years with. She reached the waterâs edge and stood there for a moment, staring out at the ocean, the rhythmic waves matching the turmoil inside her.
---
The bonfire crackled in the distance, the warmth and laughter of the group growing fainter as Y/N walked along the shore. Her steps felt heavy, her thoughts swirling with the aftertaste of the eveningâthe teasing, the offhand comments, the feeling of not quite fitting in. It wasnât that she hadnât been part of their jokes before, but tonight it was different.
She wasnât sure why it bothered her so muchâthe jokes about her never hooking up or not being like Kiara. It was just a night, after all. But it all piled up, and now, standing by herself in the cool night air, she couldnât escape the way she felt. Invisible.
And then she heard footsteps approaching, the familiar sound of someone walking through the sand with a confident stride.
âWhere are you going, bookworm?â Rafeâs voice came from behind her, the teasing tone clear even from a distance.
Y/N sighed, rolling her eyes. âReally? You too?â she muttered under her breath, bracing herself for the onslaught of sarcasm. She turned to face him, arms crossed. âI thought we had a truce, Rafe. What do you want?â
Rafe, as usual, didnât take her irritation seriously. His lips twitched with a mischievous grin, like he always knew how to push her buttons. âTruce? What truce? Come on, you canât seriously be sulking out here by yourself. The nightâs still young, and youâre out here playing emo beachside poetry.â
Y/N scoffed, feeling an odd mix of annoyance and amusement. âReally? Emo beachside poetry? Youâre such a pain in the ass.â
Rafe shrugged, unaffected. âYeah, well, someoneâs got to keep you from brooding. So, whatâs the deal? Youâre just gonna sit out here while the rest of the world is having fun? Youâre not exactly the type to pull a disappearing act.â
She stared at him for a beat, trying to figure out why his presence suddenly felt even more annoying than usual. âIâm not brooding,â she said, but her voice didnât carry the same confidence. âI just needed a break.â
Rafe, sensing her discomfort but not exactly understanding the full extent of it, shrugged and stepped closer. He wasnât used to seeing her like this, not when she was usually so steady and unbothered. But he couldnât help himselfâhe was always itching to push peopleâs buttons, especially hers.
A long silence stretched between them. Rafe, for once, wasnât sure what to say. His usual quips felt wrong in the heavy air, and he hesitated, a rare thing for him.
Y/N broke the silence, her voice barely above a whisper. âItâs the comments,â she said, the words slipping out before she could stop them. âAbout me not hooking up with anyone⊠or not being like Kiara.â She shook her head, trying to make light of it. âItâs just⊠itâs nothing, really.â
Rafe frowned, a flicker of confusion crossing his face as he took a step closer. âWhat are you talking about?â His voice was quieter now, less teasing and more concerned, though he was still doing his best to hide it.
Y/N let out a bitter laugh. âI donât know. It just⊠it felt like they donât see me the way I want to be seen. Like Iâm just some âone of the guysâ kind of thing. Like I donât matter the same way they all do.â
Rafe paused, letting the words sink in. His gaze softened for a moment, but his usual wall of sarcasm quickly came back up. âIs that it? Youâre mad because you didnât get the hookup attention?â
Y/N glared at him, annoyance flashing in her eyes. âThatâs not the point, Rafe.â
He took a deep breath, visibly trying to process her words. He wasnât great with emotions, especially when it came to the people closest to him, but he hated seeing her upset. And he hated not knowing how to help.
âI donât get you, Y/N,â he said after a beat. âYouâve always been with them. Hell, they act like youâre one of them, one of the crew. And now youâre telling me youâre upset âcause you donât get treated like some girl?â
Y/Nâs jaw tightened, but she didnât respond right away. She could feel the frustration rising again, like a knot in her chest. She had tried to convince herself it didnât matter. That she was fine with being one of the guys. But she wasnât fine.
Rafe sighed, his voice softening just a little. âYou know, Iâve never been big on feelings or whatever. But I donât like seeing people hurt. And you... you donât deserve to feel like that.â
Y/N blinked, surprised by his sudden shift. She hadnât expected him to be this⊠serious. For a moment, she almost didnât know what to say.
Rafe, still a little uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation, tried to make light of it. âLook, Iâve always thought of you as one of the guys. I mean, you hang with them more than anyone, right? Itâs like youâre part of the crew. But⊠now that Iâm seeing this, itâs like, huh. Maybe thereâs more to you than just being the âbookwormâ in the back.â His tone had a subtle softness to it, like he was trying to figure out something about herâand maybe himself, too.
Y/Nâs breath hitched in her throat. The words she had been holding in all night slipped out before she could stop them. âIâuh, I have a crush on JJ,â she confessed, her voice barely audible. âI think I always have.â
Rafe blinked, caught off guard. âOh. Well, I can see that. JJâs, uh... JJ. The golden boy, right?â He paused, then added, more seriously, âBut JJâs not exactly the best at noticing whatâs right in front of him. So, donât get your hopes up.â
Y/N felt her cheeks burn. She wasnât sure why she had said itâmaybe because Rafe didnât seem to judge her like the others did, maybe because she needed to get it out. âI know. I know itâs stupid. Itâs complicated.â
Rafe shifted, sitting down beside her, though his usual confidence seemed to have faded a little. âYeah, relationships are complicated. I wouldnât know much about them, to be honest.â He shrugged, trying to keep things light, but his tone was tinged with something moreâmaybe a little vulnerability that he wasnât used to showing. âI donât do that whole âfeelingsâ thing. And honestly, I donât really think anyone should, if Iâm being real.â
Y/N turned to look at him, surprised by the shift in his attitude. It wasnât the usual Rafeâthere was something a little more... human in his words.
âI donât know why anyone gets into relationships, honestly,â Rafe continued, his voice more thoughtful now. âThey always seem messy. Iâve seen enough of that in my family. But maybe thatâs why I stay out of it. Keeps it simple.â
Y/N nodded slowly, understanding more than she let on. âYeah. I get that.â
Rafe broke the silence with a half-smile, his usual cocky grin returning. âLook, Iâm not saying I have all the answers, but youâre not just some sidekick, Y/N. You deserve more than that. Anyone who canât see that... theyâre blind.â
Y/N stared out at the ocean, the waves crashing against the shore, her thoughts swirling. She hadnât expected this conversation with Rafe to feel like it was unearthing something real inside her, but here they were. It was the first time in a long while she felt like someone understood, even if it was Rafeâa guy who seemed to care more about being a pain in her side than anything else.
âSo, what now?â she asked, her voice quieter. "Do I just keep pretending it doesnât matter? That Iâm okay with being invisible?"
Rafe shifted beside her, his presence solid and unexpected. For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of the waves and the crackling of the bonfire far in the distance.
âMaybe donât pretend,â he said after a beat. âBut donât expect everything to change overnight, either. You canât force people to see you differently, even if theyâre close to you. If they donât get it, thatâs on them. And if they doâwell, then thatâs when things get messy. But I think you deserve better than being invisible.â
Y/N glanced at him, her brow furrowed. She wasnât sure what to make of his words, but she felt like she might be seeing a different side of him for the first time. Not the brash, cocky Rafe, but the one who understood what it felt like to be lost in the crowd.
"You're kind of making sense, you know?" Y/N said, half-laughing, her voice tinged with disbelief.
Rafe gave a small shrug, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I do that sometimes."
For the first time that night, Y/N felt like she could breathe a little easier. Maybe she wasnât completely alone in feeling invisible. But the night was far from over, and Y/N knew that her place in the groupâand the way she was seenâwas something sheâd have to face sooner or later.
"Thanks, Rafe," she said quietly, almost as an afterthought.
He gave her a sideways glance, raising an eyebrow. "Donât mention it, bookworm. Just donât go getting any ideas, alright?"
Y/N chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Donât worry. Youâre the last person Iâd ever have ideas about."
They both stayed quiet for a while longer, watching the waves, the firelight casting flickering shadows over the sand. It wasnât the end of her internal battle, but for a moment, it felt like maybe she had a little more clarity. Just a little more understanding. And that was enough for now.
---
Next up: morning confrontations and coffee mishaps
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Taglist:
@hockeybabe87
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A/N: never underestimate the power of a uni student during midterms. she will write multiple chapters of a fic in 24 hours
#obx4#obx#rafe obx#rafe outer banks#outer banks#outer banks rafe#outer banks fanfiction#jj outer banks#jj maybank x reader#jj x kie#jj maybank#rafe cameron#rafe x reader#rafe cameron x reader#rafe imagine
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đ« older brother!mingyu vs. boyfriend!wonwoo.
anon â "could you please maybe do a text au of older brother! Mingyu and brother's best friend - and boyfriend - Wonwoo?"
â§âËâ©ćœĄ includes: cussing, sibling dynamics, wonwoo and mingyu are best friends! best read in order + headcanons under the cut.
đ« the three times mingyu almost caught you (and the one time he did) .á
(1)
wonwoo likes to think he's a pretty rational guy. he follows rules. he does everything by the book. he treats people well, and he's a good friend. mingyu could attest. they've been best friends for years, after all. exceptâ well, there might be one rule that wonwoo has bended just a teensy, tiny bit.
he's breaking it now as the two of you hold hands underneath the café table. you're doing your own thing with your free hand, but the other remains firmly grasped by wonwoo's. he never thought he'd be the clingy type, honestly. it just felt so out of character for somebody like him. and yet here he is, pouting ever so slightly whenever you try to pull away.
"i need to turn the page, baby," you say exasperatedly, gesturing to the book balanced precariously in front of you.
"i'll turn it for you," he says immediately, reaching out to do exactly that. "just let me know when you need me to."
"you're insane."
he pouts harder. you sigh.
minutes later, though, you're wrenching your hand away like wonwoo's touch has burned you. his whine of babyyy is on the tip of his tongue, but he chokes on the word when he sees the reason for your sudden distance: mingyu, bounding in to the café.
"there you are!" he cries to wonwoo. "watchu doin' with this bighead?"
you flip your older brother off. "tutoring," you say without missing a beat. "because unlike you, wonwoo has more than one functioning brain cell."
as the two of you bicker a bit more, wonwoo tries to rearrange his expression into something more neutral. it's all he can do to hide the way he's already missing the feeling of your fingers slotted in the spaces of his.
(2)
if somebody told a younger wonwoo that he would one day be using emoticons and emojis for someone, that younger wonwoo would've laughed his ass off. today's wonwoo can only hang his head in slight shame.
it came easily, but it also came in part because you used to ask 'are you mad at me? đ„ș' when he would use his usual textspeak on you. wonwoo was more than happy to start adapting to your typing habits in a bid to ease your mind.
he's on safari, looking up the appropriate emoticon to send as a reaction to your latest selfieâ he's torn between (áŠËâŁËáŠ) and ăœ(âĄâżâĄ)ă, which may look the same, but he swears there are nuancesâ when he hears mingyu's amused voice mumble, "what the hell?"
"jesus christ!"
wonwoo's exclamation is paired with the most over-the-top reaction in the world: tossing his phone halfway across the room. mingyu doubles over in laughter as wonwoo glares up at his best friend, who'd been looking over his shoulder.
"yah, don't sneak up on me like that," wonwoo hisses, the tips of his ears going red.
"alright, mr. japanese kaomojis dot com," mingyu teases. he begins laughing harder at his own joke.
wonwoo smacks mingyu upside on the head before going to retrieve his phone. the screen protector has the ghost of a crack on it, but it's a small price to pay.
at least mingyu hadn't peeked the selfie of you making a kissy face for wonwoo.
(3)
"you should probably go soon," you say delicately, nudging wonwoo's head with the heel of your palm.
he lets out a low whine of protest. despite being significantly bigger than you, he's the one draped over you; his face buried in your chest, his arms wrapped around your waist.
the two of you are lounging on your living room couch. your parentsâ and your pesky older brotherâ all had plans elsewhere, giving you and wonwoo some freedom.
"you hate me," your boyfriend groans against the front of your shirt.
"they'll be here any minute."
"so i'll stay for thirty seconds more, then."
it's never just seconds more with wonwoo, but you've never been one to deny him. the thirty seconds spin in to three minutes, then seven, thenâ
the unmistakable sound of a car pulling into the driveway has wonwoo's head snapping up.
"shit," you both say at the same time.
wonwoo scrambles to disentangle from you. "is itâ"
"mingyu," you confirm, having grown accustomed to the different sounds that would indicate who was coming home. your eyes are frantic as you wave wonwoo off. "go, go, go!"
he stumbles forward, then backward, like he's not sure where to go.
"my bedroom window!" you hiss, and wonwoo practically bolts up the stairs two steps at a time. just as he gets to the landing of the second floor, mingyu saunters in through the front door.
"were you talking to someone?" your brother asks.
"yeah," you say, schooling your reaction into one of nonchalance. "myself."
"get some help, weirdo."
"how about youâ"
your biting retort is cut short by the distant sound of a distant crash. both you and mingyu look towards the general direction of the interruption.
"the hell?" mingyu grouses. you feel like your heart is in your throat as your brother heads for the front door to check.
a frazzled looking wonwoo is out on the porch.
"hey," wonwoo breathes to mingyu. "i, uh, came to see you. knocked over one of your pots while i was walking up, though."
mingyu's eyebrows raise. "why? forgot your glasses or something?"
your eyes catch on wonwoo's spectacles, resting at the foot of the couch. while mingyu's back is still turned, you grab them and shove them into your pocket.
"yeah, forgot 'em at home," wonwoo lies. he's not even looking at you as mingyu lets him in.
"you're in luck," a none the wiser mingyu says. "i literally just got home. otherwise, you would've needed to kill time with the world's biggest loser."
right, you think. like that isn't exactly what wonwoo had just been doing.
(4)
mingyu hadn't meant to find out. really. he was just going to be an annoying older brotherâ barge into your room, stand there for absolutely no reason, then leave the door open behind him. except when he goes to check, you're already asleep.
he notices that you've crashed atop your covers. that draws a derisive snort of laughter from him. "dumbass," he mumbles to himself. he's known you for all your life, and you're the type to complain about some phantom fever if you didn't have a blanket in your sleep.
he goes to pull your comforter over you, only to freeze midway.
your phone is angled at you, propped up against the wall. it seems like you'd fallen asleep on video call.
and, on the other end of the line is none other than wonwoo.
wonwoo is fast asleep, too. mingyu recognizes the other man's bedroom, sees the way that wonwoo is already dressed for bed. everything just seems to click, then. because everything else is excusable, negligible. but this? the intimacy of this, the sheer familiarity it entails?
mingyu feels like he's intruding. he probably is.
briefly, he considers screaming in your ear until both you and wonwoo are awake. he wants to see what kind of explanation the two of you can come up with on the spot. it'd be pretty funny, he thinks.
instead, he tucks your blanket over your shoulders, taking extra care to not wake you. he'll let you pretend for one more day, he decides with a slight shake of his head.
on his way out of your bedroom, mingyu closes the door for once.
#mingyu smau#wonwoo smau#mingyu imagines#wonwoo imagines#wonwoo x reader#jeon wonwoo x reader#svt smau#seventeen smau#svt imagines#seventeen imagines#ââ á”ᔠ⊠mine#ââ á”ᔠ⊠reqs#[ wonwoo who does a complete 180 for his s/o ? the flavor ... ]#[ MINGYU WHO HAS ALWAYS KNOWN BUT WANTS TO JUST GIVE U GRIEF??? EVEN BETTER ]#[ anon u've unleashed something insane in me. this is one of my favorite tropes and with the right pair ]#[ we can truly Fuck Around n Find Out ]#[ u can tear 3+1 fics out of my cold dead hands ]
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Human Resistance: Pair Bond
tw: mind control, drugging, kidnapping, brainwashing
Masterlist
You are obedient.
"I am obedient."
Zach felt so warm and drowsy, his cot so much softer than it normally was, almost like the sleep-pod that he tried so hard not to remember. Something was gently stroking his hair, making him feel calm and peaceful. Even better, there were strong arms wrapped around him, keeping him secure. He really didn't want to open his heavy eyes, but there was something nagging at him, something he needed to do.
You are docile.
"I am docile."
Yes. He felt docile in a way he shouldn't be. Docile was what the enemy wanted, he'd been reminded so many times. He had to fight. He had to lead.
But somehow, right now, it felt like it was all going to be okay.
A little tug in his mind tried to alert him that there was someone else there, someone mumbling those words near his ear. Someone familiar. Zach opened his eyes just enough to see his second-in-command and sworn friend Jesse, lying there in a daze.
Jesse looked utterly relaxed, in a way that Zach had rarely seen him, certainly not since Zach had been "rescued" and so much responsibility had fallen on his shoulders. He tried not to show it, but he was always worrying about the resistance. He had so many things on his mind at all times, from upcoming missions to dwindling supplies to shoring up defenses. It was nice to see him relaxed.
At least, until he remembered why Jesse was so relaxed.
You will comply.
"I will comply," said Jesse in a slow, sleepy mumble.
Zach remembered, once more, that he'd been captured, along with Jesse. He remembered why they'd both been captured -- that Jesse had insisted on coming along on his near-suicide mission for supplies, Zach's way of atoning for the mess he'd left behind and then brought back. It was his fault that Jesse had been captured, and this timeâŠ
This time, he knew there would be no going back, not for him. The detox and deprogramming, the surgery to remove the collar from his neck, the nightmares and hallucinations and the feeling like he was going out of his mind -- it was barely successful the first time, and there was no way he'd be able to deal with it again, if the remnants of the resistance even bothered to try. If the aliens got their hooks in him, and it sure seemed like they already had, it would be over for him. He'd be a pet forever.
And the fact that he was torn between horror and relief only sealed his conviction that he was done for.
Jesse was curled up in his arms, just as Zach was curled up in maddeningly familiar tentacles, deep under their spell and saying their mantras, already so lost. Zach wondered what would become of him. Would he be a pet, a servant, a worker? Would they ever see each other again? He'd often seen former resistance members in the pet care areas, but for many, he had no idea where they were.
All Zach knew for sure was that he'd failed Jesse, failed the entire human resistance. He hadn't won them their freedom as he had promised so many times. All he'd done was delay their servitude.
Jesse had trusted him, even after everything, and Zach had failed to save him, and now he was theirs.
Maybe he'll be better this way, happier.
That was the alien programming intruding into his mind again, so easily now that he was floating in the residual effects of a dose of their mind-bending venom. Zach's hard fight to pull himself out of the brainwashing was eroding so quickly, like a sandcastle in the waves. Maybe a sandcastle was all it had ever been.
The aliens didn't seem to mind as he stirred and shifted to get a better look out of one of the windows, perhaps correctly deciding that Zach was no threat. They were in one of the small transport crafts with about a dozen other aliens and a handful of other captured humans, all dazed and dreamy.
He should fight. He should try to rescue these people. But he knew that all it would earn him is a stronger dose of sedatives. He could tell himself that he was holding back, waiting for an opening, even though he knew the opening would never actually come.
One of the enormous colony ships was gradually coming into view over the horizon. All of the colony ships had differences in size and structure, and Zach recognized this one easily. He'd seen it out the window many times when going on trips with his Superior. It was home.
No, not home. It was the colony ship where he'd been imprisoned. They were taking him back there.
Were they returning him to his Superior? Would his Superior even want him back, after his "rescue", or was he too much of a liability, damaged goods? As much as he dreaded the idea of being turned back into a helpless pet, the thought of being discarded by his Superior still hurt. There was a part of him that still wanted to see his owner again, a part of him that the deprogramming had never totally rooted out.
Zach's mind couldn't help but drift to memories of his time as a pet. The plentiful, fresh food in the cafeteria, as much as he could ever want. The warm and comfortable sleep pod in his owner's chamber, lulling him into a gentle slumber with no nightmares. The days spent lounging on the ship deck with no responsibilities, doing enrichment puzzles or watching videos of far-off planets.
It made him want to give up so badly, and that scared him. He had to do something about it. He had to do something, anything, before he was lost forever to himself.
He had toâŠ
âŠhe had to complyâŠ
He tried to shake his head free of the compulsion that consumed him, but it was already buried deep. The aliens had put him under his grasp, and it was already too late. He struggled in his mind, fought with everything he had, to pull himself free of the tentacles surrounding him. If he could get free, if he could surprise them, maybe he could get to the controls of the transport ship and do something. Even ejecting out over the ocean would give him a better chance of his mind surviving than if he let them take him into the colony ship.
He had to do it, not just for himself, but for Jesse. It was all his fault Jesse was going to be a pet too.
With everything he had, Zach forced his arms to move, pushing against the tentacle holding him fast.
It didn't even budge.
Both his muscles and his mind gave out from the effort, and he collapsed back into the alien's grip, his last hope quenched. It was over.
Just a few moments later, while Zach was stewing in his failure, the transport ship docked and the door at the back opened up, the aliens picking up their human captives.
"What⊠what's going on�" said Jesse as he was stirred, still out of it.
"We're at the colony ship," said Zach.
"Colony shipâŠ!"
Zach could see Jesse's face contort as he went through the familiar routine of trying to struggle and fight and realizing that you can't, because you need to comply. Jesse's arms and legs flailed uselessly, weak, as both he and Zach were taken to the exit.
"Ugh, why can't IâŠ" said Jesse in utter frustration.
"Because we're already under their control," said Zach. It was too late, and he didn't know how he'd be able to tell Jesse that. Maybe Jesse could keep his fire, resist in ways that Zach couldn't manage. Maybe he'd be the one to break out. At any rate, Zach owed it to him to help him however he could, as long as he was able. Depending on where the aliens took them, they might not ever see each other again after this day.
The docking area of the colony ship was enormous, the size of a football stadium, filled with ships of all sizes, aliens, and human workers and pets. The transport ship they'd just arrived on was immediately swarmed by a group of human maintenance workers with cheery smiles on their faces. Zach wondered who they used to be, if they were actually happy working on alien ships.
Maybe they were. Maybe their old jobs were worse than what they had now. Maybe they didn't even need to be brainwashed -- although the aliens would brainwash them anyway.
Zach's thoughts were pulled out of orbit by something both startling and familiar, terrifying and comforting. Something he would recognize anywhere.
It was his Superior.
He couldn't really recognize his owner by sight -- whatever physical differences there were with the aliens, they were generally too subtle for humans to notice -- but he could tell from the presence. Zach could feel the anticipation, too. His owner was waiting here, eager for his pet to be returned, and Zach had only moments left before he was turned back into a pet for good. Revulsion and resistance warred in his mind with that treacherous desire for comfort, and in a daze, he tried once more to push away from the tentacles holding him.
And then a familiar eye bloomed before him, filled with patterns that instantly subdued him, and the fight was over.
Zach's body went limp and lax as he was handed over to his Superior, the familiar rhythm of its thoughts lulling him into a stupor. He was home.
Little one, said the voice in his head. You will comply.
"I will comply," Zach repeated with no hesitation.
His Superior was turning him over in its arms, and Zach could feel himself being examined. Where is your collar?
"They removed it from me," he said, eager for his Superior to know that it wasn't his choice. "They did surgery on me without my consent and took it." Somewhere behind him, he could hear Jesse's sharp intake of breath.
His Superior didn't respond, and the steady waves of its thoughts indicated that it was considering what Zach had said. Tentacles wrapped around his body as he was directed to look into its hypnotic eye once more, losing himself in its depths.
You're in my command. You will tell the truth.
Zach's eyes were wide, his mind open and absorbing. "I will tell the truth."
Why didn't you return to me when commanded?
"I tried," he said. All of the suffering of his rescue and rehabilitation was flooding his mind, and he knew his Superior could read it from him. "My friends at the human resistance restrained and drugged me. They removed my collar and tried to undo all of my training. They were just trying to help me. They don't understand."
For a long moment, his Superior was quiet, thinking once more. Are you currently harmed? You must report to me if there is a problem.
"No. I'm just tired and hungry."
Your pet seems to be in fair condition. One of the aliens who had captured Zach was chiming in. The capture was clean and easy.
Even in his daze, Zach bristled a bit at the notion that his capture was easy. He should've been better than that.
Good. I will send my pet for recollaring, and then to the infirmary for examination. It will require reconditioning.
Zach could almost laugh. He was being collared again, just like that, after all of the pain and effort involved with deprogramming him, the dangerous surgery they'd performed on him to get the alien collar out of his spine. He could've died or been paralyzed, and it was all for nothing, undone so easily.
His Superior was taking him back. It believed that Zach had been taken against his will, and it seemed like he wasn't even being punished for it. He was finally going home.
Even as Zach let himself sink into his Superior's hold, he heard a muffled cry behind him. Jesse was still being held by the aliens who had captured Zach, flailing more than ever in an effort to free himself.
"It's all right, Jesse. You're going to be okay," said Zach, hoping to comfort his second-in-command even while feeling the sting of separation. Unless Jesse remained in this same region of the colony ship, this might be the last time they saw each other.
These two humans may be pair bonded, said one of the aliens who had captured them. They provided touch for each other while resting in the transport ship. It was endearing.
Humans are social creatures, added the alien holding Jesse. They do best in groups of two to four.
Jesse stopped struggling, looking at Zach expectantly as he realized what was happening. Hope rose in Zach's chest. If his Superior could be convinced to take Jesse as well, then Jesse would be guaranteed a good owner and a comfortable life. Zach had failed to protect Jesse, but this way, he could help ease him into this new world.
It has been considered before, his Superior responded. I was reluctant to acquire any additional pet. I have an unusually large amount of work and responsibility. I doubt I have time to care for two humans.
Before Zach could open his mouth in a possibly futile attempt to convince his Superior, even knowing how little the opinion of a pet was worth, the alien carrying Jesse spoke up again. I own three human pets. It is just as easy to take care of two as one. They spend time entertaining and caring for each other.
This little one does require frequent enrichment. His Superior was deliberating over the decision, waves of thought rolling through Zach like music. Your assessment may be correct.
They will both need conditioning. They could take their conditioning together. It is often easier that way. Your old pet can guide your new pet. The alien holding Jesse moved closer, and Zach could see the mix of fear and expectation in Jesse's eyes. I could give you this little one now, and report that it has been acquired.
Zach and Jesse were both holding their breath, staring at each other, their fates out of their hands.
After what seemed like an eternity, his Superior responded. That is acceptable. I will take them both to be collared. It took Jesse in its arms and placed him right next to Zach.
Zach breathed a sigh of relief as they were carried through the docking station. At least Jesse was safe. "Are you okay?" he whispered, knowing his Superior could hear him and read his thoughts regardless.
"No, I'm not okay," Jesse hissed back. "I've been captured by the enemy, they keep putting the whammy on my brain, and I'm about to be turned into a pet." He took a ragged breath. "But I'm glad they didn't separate us."
"Me too." He couldn't deny anything that Jesse had said, but the worry kept slipping through his mind, impossible to hold onto. He was home.
"What happens now? Am I going to be this thing's pet?"
"Our Superior," Zach corrected reflexively, ignoring Jesse's look of disgust. "Yeah, I think so. I think it's taking you to be its pet, too."
"It's taking us to be collared, Zach, you heard it! You can't just let them collar you again! And they're going to collar me, and then I'll be -- I'll be --"
Zach knew what Jesse was thinking. He could only imagine how pathetic he had looked in the infirmary, crying and trying to escape, with one of the alien enslavement collars beaming commands straight into his brain. It had been far less humiliating when he was on the ship and everyone around him had one, but he knew that would be cold comfort.
He didn't get a chance to comfort Jesse, though, because his Superior had apparently had enough of his new pet's panic. Tentacles gripped Jesse tighter as several hypnotic eyes opened in front of his face, and within seconds, Jesse was wide-eyed and entranced. Be still and calm, his Superior commanded, and Jesse nodded.
Even though the eyes were't directed at him, Zach couldn't help but look and lose himself a bit, his surroundings settling into blurry calm as his Superior carried them both off.
He only became alert again when they entered a new room, one filled with pods containing dazed humans. It wasn't the huge and bustling processing center Zach had been sent to the first time he was captured, one clearly meant for mass processing of humans. This was much smaller and quieter, one of the usual training rooms.
A pair of aliens stopped his Superior near the entrance, and the group was chatting in their own language. Living in what seemed to be his Superior's combined living quarters and workspace, Zach had become very used to the background noise of alien speech from endless meetings and calls.
His Superior turned Zach over, and he could feel a tentacle prodding at the scar left by the surgery to remove his collar. His calm left him a bit as he was examined. Would this be an issue? He didn't know what they did to humans they couldn't collar, and he didn't want to find out. Maybe his Superior would simply take Jesse as a replacement, a shiny new pet.
After more incomprehensible discussion, one of the aliens took Jesse from his Superior's tentacles. Jesse stirred, and Zach could tell he was trying to break himself free of the hypnotic spell, but he knew how futile it was. Fear rose in his eyes as he was taken to a nearby pod. "No," he said, voice rising. "No, no, no⊠!"
"It's all right, Jesse," said Zach, trying to channel the voice of confident leadership he used to know so well. "It isn't going to hurt. It'll all be over soon."
"No, you can't let them do this!" Even as he began to struggle, he was placed into the pod and the cover sealed. Through the translucent blue cover, Zach could see Jesse slam his palms against the pod before mechanical appendages grabbed his limbs and held him fast. The thin metal band snapped around his neck, Jesse's eyes going wide, and it was done.
Zach knew what would come next, because he remembered when it had happened to him, strangely vivid compared to other memories of his time being programmed. The conditioning would start, now augmented by a direct line into Jesse's mind, and it wouldn't be long before his thoughts slipped and his mind sank into that comfortable, pleasant haze that Zach knew all too well.
Zach wasn't going to be watching, though, because now his Superior directed him to where the aliens were setting up a different sort of apparatus, a chair that wasn't surrounded by a pod. Zach reflexively looked to his Superior for hope of guidance or an explanation.
There is damage to your neck, his Superior said. It will be corrected. While you are still damaged, you will be given a temporary collar.
"What damage? What needs correcting?" said Zach, recalling his involuntary knee surgery. But that was all his Superior was interested in telling him. He was set down gently in the chair, and a kind of tube encased his left arm. Before Zach could become too worried, one of the other aliens subdued him with its beautiful eyes, and those warm, padded headphones were put on his head. He heard a sort of chime -- the same sound that always occurred at the beginning of the programming -- and Zach was immediately lost to it, sinking limp and loose into the chair.
You are home.
Brief images flashed through Zach's mind of all the places he'd called home in the past. The human resistance base in better days, when it was full of people and enthusiasm and genuine hope of success. The small apartment he'd had back when aliens had been the stuff of sci-fi, with its ratty brown carpets and tiny kitchen and shower that constantly ran out of hot water. His parents' house, when he was a child, full of clutter and the smell of his mom's cooking.
And now, the colony ship was home, with its round corridors and human enrichment stations and windows to the sky.
Something slipped around Zach's wrist, a metal band that felt just like his collar had felt, and when the chimes next sounded, they went straight to his brain.
Masterlist
There's at least one more followup part with Jesse, and then potentially some additional stories. Thanks for reading!
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Another addition to my Krew early childhood headcanons, featuring Gricko Grimgrin himself!! Ecstatic to introduce you all to Gertrude Grimgrin and, of course, the infamous Uncle Glorbo :)
As per my usual disclaimer, I'm still only half way through canon and I'm sure there's a lot of canon backstory stuff that I'm missing. Also, I don't know ANYTHING about goblins, in Avantris or in DND in general, so uh. Please keep that in mind <3
I envision that Gricko grew up in a pretty secluded goblin camp nestled deep in the swamp. I think that it was a pretty closed society, but the people definitely had a "it takes a village" mentality; goblins, especially in this particular village, are quite good and banding together and helping each other in times of need.
Gricko was raised almost exclusively by his mother for the beginning of his life after his father walked out on them when Gricko was still young. It really took a toll on his mother, and even though she loved him a lot, it took her some time to separate her son from his father. Changing their names back to her maiden name, Grimgrin, definitely helped.
Glorbo entered the picture when Gricko was around 5-6, deciding to come home from traveling abroad after catching wind of Gertrude's situation. He's actually Gricko Sr.'s older brother, rather than Gertrude's, but he felt compelled to step up to help his nephew and sister-in-law where his brother wouldn't.
Gertrude, personality-wise, was always a "tough love" kind of woman, partially due to her own upbringing and partially due to the heartbreak she'd suffered. She had pretty strong opinions about how she wanted to raise her son, hoping that she would be able to give him a great life regardless of their struggles. She's constantly stressed and worried, wondering how to provide for her family and how the future will shape out for them.
Glorbo, on the other hand, is a carefree spirit. He's a lot like the Gricko we know in canon, eccentric and excitable. He's a sort of foil to Gertrude, valuing freedom and self expression, not worrying about the future under the belief that the future would sort itself out. He focused on the present, making sure the people around him were happy in the 'now'. He encouraged Gricko (and Gertrude) to let loose and explore the world around them instead of worrying so much about what's to come.
Naturally, Gertrude and Glorbo butted heads frequently, especially as Gricko got older and took on more and more of Glorbo's traits; in fact, the only thing they could ever really agree on was wanting the best for Gricko, no matter what exactly that entailed.
#feel like this ended up being longer than id planned lol#long post#also sorry i am NOT immune to goblin tail propaganda </3#legends of avantris#once upon a witchlight#ouaw#ouaw fanart#gricko grimgrin#legends of avantris fanart#headcanon#headcanons#oc#ocs#original character#original characters#snek sketches#digital art#digital artist#small artist#artists on tumblr#dnd#dungeons and dragons#goblin#goblin oc
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The feminist movement highlights how men weaponize safety concerns to maintain control over women. Even when women take precautions for their own security, many men respond with dismissiveness or threats, reinforcing women's vulnerability. This behavior is part of a larger pattern of undermining women's independence and reinforcing male dominance by making women feel powerless, even in situations where they've taken measures to protect themselves. I'm aiming for the legal protections of the prostitute but a crackdown on johns and pimps. I want prostitutes (and other 'sex workers' of course but I am focusing on prostitutes) to be able to seek aid, go to the police, and get other forms of help without fear of being arrested or fined. I want johns to be scared to even walk near a prostitute. I want pimps to face a minimum of 10 years in prison if not more. On one hand, we are told to express ourselves, to open up, yet the moment we do, our feelings are met with skepticism, even ridicule. "Who hurt you?" they ask, not out of care but as if our pain is something to be dismissed. Men, in particular, seem almost repelled by the vulnerability they claim to want. There s an underlying reason for this pattern, but the question remains: why? ne stark example is how some individuals seem to reject the societal pressures that come with their assigned gender by adopting identities that ostensibly offer more freedom, but ultimately lead back to the same structural biases they hoped to escape. A similar point of cognitive dissonance can be found in the ways men continue to undermine women s contributions to society. The tired argument that men are responsible for most major scientific discoveries conveniently ignores the historical context in which women were denied access to education, intellectual pursuits, and professional recognition.
^^^ reminder that peanut butter think stuff like this is ok. Lets just sonic the hedgehog until we reach the S.S. Bootleg. Why does everything have to be so weird with you? i dont prit anymore i whooperchia. Just because you can sag doesnt mean you should bwip. Nothings ever gwobbly enough when Wario tries to vop at the grand glub glub ga-lub. If I had a MLT for every time MIM tried to blomp, Id own The deep and scary hole.Things arent as wacky as they seem, especially in the doop hole.
#anti pornography#radical feminists do touch#radfeminism#terfs please touch#gender critical#gender cult#radfems welcome#gendercrit#radical feminist safe
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